A Different Course of Action
by Dovah-wolfbear64
Summary: (Canon divergent AU. No Others/White Walkers. Some characters OOC) Jon Snow does not take the black after being selected as a steward, so leaves the Wall. Robb meanwhile marches past the Twins to engage Tywin Lannister head on, thus ignoring the Freys. How will the game of thrones go with this different course of action? [ON HIATUS, READ PROFILE FOR MORE INFO]
1. A Different Course

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, I'm just making a couple of corrections that I somehow missed while getting this chapter ready. Nothing being rewritten so don't worry.

Chapter 2 will be up soon.

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 **A DIFFERENT COURSE OF ACTION**

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 **A Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire AU Fan-Fiction**

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Summery

Nearly sixteen years have passed since the end of Robert's Rebellion, the war that saw House Targaryen removed from the Iron Throne and Robert Baratheon become the new King. He has ruled with the help of Lord Jon Arryn, who served as his Hand for fifteen years. Several months ago he died under suspicious circumstances, leaving his six year old son Robert Arryn as the Lord of the Vale. King Robert travelled to Winterfell to seek his old childhood friend, Lord Eddard Stark, and ask him to become his new Hand, and to seek a betrothal between his son Crown Prince Joffrey Baratheon and Eddard's eldest daughter Sansa Stark. Many days after arriving at Winterfell Eddard's middle son Bran had fallen from a tower where he landed on a cart, injuring his head and slipping into a coma as well as breaking one of his legs. Days after the accident Eddard left Winterfell with both of his daughters to become the Hand of the King, leaving his eldest trueborn son Robb in charge as acting Lord of Winterfell. His natural-born son Jon Snow travelled to the Wall to join the Night's Watch, while his wife Lady Catelyn sat by her middle son's bedside as he lay unconscious.

The journey south to King's Landing saw some troubles for Eddard and his daughters, including an incident that saw his girls Sansa and Arya come to quietly resent each other after Sansa's direwolf Lady was killed by Eddard after Prince Joffrey was wounded by Arya's direwolf Nymeria, who was sent away by Arya to protect her knowing that she would be killed. King Robert's wife, Queen Cersei Lannister, had pushed for the direwolf to be killed, and Eddard did the deed to spare Lady from unnecessary suffering. Finally Eddard arrived at the capitol to take his position as Hand, and not long after his first council session he had met with Lord Petyr Baelish and, to his surprise, his wife Catelyn who had travelled ahead of him. During his journey south an attempt was made on Bran's life by an assassin, and the dagger used was said to belong to Tyrion Lannister, the Queen's younger brother. Already suspicious of the Lannisters loyalty to the Iron Throne Eddard sends Catelyn back to Winterfell while carrying out his own investigation. Catelyn and her guard Ser Rodrik Cassel, the master-at-arms of Winterfell, travelled as far as the Inn at the Crossroads before they encountered Tyrion Lannister, whom Catelyn had arrested with the help of some knights of the Riverlands, her father Lord Hoster Tully's bannermen.

Tyrion's arrest started a chain of events that would lead to the young acting Lord of Winterfell to march south to war. Robb had called some of his father's bannermen to Winterfell to raise an army in preparation of the Lannisters expected assault on his grandfather's lands, which he began to do after news of his father's wounding in the streets of King's Landing had reached the North. After word of King Robert's death and the arrest of Eddard had spread, Robb summoned many more Northern Lords to assemble at Moat Cailin, the ancient fortress that sits just north of the Neck, the North's southern region. Once there the fifteen year old lordling had amassed a host twenty-thousand strong, and soon after he began to march south into the Riverlands.

By the time that Robb Stark had entered the Riverlands, Tywin Lannister had ravaged much of the Tullys surrounding lands. The Lord of Casterly Rock had led a host of thirty-five-thousand men to attack the region belonging to Catelyn's father, in retaliation of her taking Tyrion prisoner. Lord Tywin led twenty-thousand men while giving fifteen-thousand to his eldest son Ser Jamie Lannister, a knight of the Kingsguard. He sent Ser Jamie to take Riverrun, House Tully's ancestral seat, while he led his own host to Harrenhal. It was while he was there that he had heard of Robb Stark marching south past the Twins, leaving a force to keep the Freys in check. He was noted to have split his host into many smaller hosts, a move which confounded Tywin. The Old Lion of Casterly Rock put it down to the actions of an inexperienced boy, and decided to march on Robb, leading his entire host to the eastern side of the Green Fork of the Trident, where the Northern hosts were located. Eight days after beginning his march, Tywin had met up with Tyrion and his new companions; about three-hundred Clansmen of the Vale. With those additional warriors Tywin continued to plan to capture Robb Stark, who his scouts had reported was leading a thousand men not far from their current position just on the eastern banks of the Green Fork. This host was supposedly too far from any other host. Believing Robb Stark to have gotten overeager for battle, Tywin leads an attack on the small host, letting the Mountain that Rides, Ser Gregor Clegane, lead the vanguard, which Tyrion was part of with his Clansmen.

Unknown to all of them, Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish as he is often called, has been harrying Tywin's outriders, and has been leading other groups of men to encircle the larger Lannister host. Tywin is unaware of this, and so he blindly walks into a trap…

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 **Chapter 1**

 **A Different Course**

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Tyrion

The boy was now dead, all for nothing. Tyrion could not help but shake his head at the situation. Young Robb Stark had led twenty-thousand Northmen, all eager for revenge after Lord Eddard's arrest by King Joffrey. That was something that Tyrion still could not believe; _King_ Joffrey. The boy on the Iron Throne had started a war with the North, and now Eddard Stark's eldest son and heir was dead. He now only had a seven-year-old son with a broken leg that might never heal properly as an heir with a three-year-old boy as the next in line. _Utter madness_ , he thought. _What have you done Joffrey?_ He still found it hard to understand why Robb Stark marched with a thousand men and _why_ he marched too far ahead of his other hosts. It was complete stupidity. "The boy is eager for glory," Tyrion's father Lord Tywin had said during a meeting with the other lords and knights. "He may like the sound of drums and the flutter of banners in the wind, but he will run as soon as battle is joined." His father was wrong on one count; Robb did not flee when the Mountain led the vanguard charging down the hill towards him.

Tyrion had been enjoying the previous night with Shea, the whore that Bronn had found for him, when he was awoken by his young squire Podrik Payne to be ready for battle. Podrik had helped him into his armour and with some help from Bronn, Tyrion was sat in his saddle, and he soon found himself riding with his Clansmen to battle. It was barely dawn when the vanguard which Tyrion was with had attacked Robb's position. The thousand men under Clegane's command had slaughtered Robb's own thousand men, with the Northmen killing many Westermen, probably three or four for each of their own; the vanguard was reinforced by the reserve, and the battle quickly became a complete massacre which lasted only for an hour, but it was a quick hour. Ten minutes before the fight had ended the Mountain had thrust his sword into Robb's torso, killing him outright, and the remaining Northmen soon shared their young leader's fate. Tyrion shook his head as he rode amongst the dead. Nearly two-hundred of his Clansmen had been killed, but many still stood. Shagga and Timmet were both quite happy with their bloody work while Chella took some ears from dead Northmen. While they did as they pleased Tyrion rode with Bronn close by, and he noticed that his squire had caught up with them.

Tyrion rode to the middle of the field where the Mountain was standing, his greatsword still wet with blood. He noticed that his father was riding up with his uncle Ser Kevan, as well as one of his young cousins, Martyn. Martyn and his elder twin brother Willem were both squires, and they were Kevan's sons. Martyn was given the _honour_ of being Tywin's squire. The sun was now shining high in the sky, with the field of the battle now being more visible to everyone. The sight of the carnage made Tyrion feel sick, and young Podrik seemed to agree with him judging by how pale he had gone.

"Ser Gregor," Tywin called out as both he and Tyrion stopped. "I thought I gave specific instructions to take the boy alive." It was typical of Lord Tywin to state a question rather than ask one. Tyrion looked at the massive brute that was his father's loyal mad dog.

"The boy refused to surrender my lord," he answered. "He drew his steel and did not back down."

"And so now Lord Eddard has lost his heir," Tyrion said. "I do hope Lady Catelyn is feeling proud of herself for capturing me in the first place." Tywin fixed him with a glare that would make lesser men cower.

"Now is not the time for such remarks Tyrion," he said before resuming his conversation with the Mountain. As they spoke Tyrion looked around the field. They were surrounded on all sides by high hills, with the field they were in quite low as if they were at the bottom of a bowl. Tyrion could not help but think of how easy it would be to annihilate his father's host if they were all positioned here. As it was Lord Tywin had sent five-thousand men to ride north to harry any Northmen they encountered, leaving fifteen-thousand men here.

"Such a shame about the lad, eh Tyrion," Bronn spoke as he dismounted his horse. "Still, the King has his sisters and father to keep the rest under control."

"Thankfully," Tyrion replied quietly as he looked down at Robb Stark's corpse. The boy was armoured in full iron plate, with ringmail beneath that layer of armour. He had a ruined shield with a direwolf head not far from his body and a broken longsword next to his hand. His head was in a helm with a full face visor covering his face. As he looked at the boy's body a thought began to nag at him. "Wait, where is the wolf?" he asked.

"What wolf?" Bronn asked him back. Tyrion looked at him before looking back at his father who was looking at him questioningly.

"Where is the boy's direwolf?" he asked again. Tywin raised an eyebrow before responding.

"Despite the earlier reports from our scouts, it seems that there was no wolf here," he answered. Tyrion thought that suspicious, but he could not understand why. As he was thinking about it he looked back down at the body. He was about to turn his horse around when something poking out from under Robb's helmet caught his attention.

"What the hells?" he muttered to himself before beginning to climb down from his saddle. Bronn and Podrik both came to help him down, and once on his feet he rushed to the body. "Podrik, help me with the helm," he commanded.

"Tyrion," his father's voice came warningly. Tyrion ignored him and removed the helm with Podrik's help. After a few moments the helm came free and when Tyrion looked down at the face he gasped. The last time he saw Robb Stark was when he was last at Winterfell some months ago. The boy was young and clean shaven with his auburn hair only just reaching his shoulders. This man had a trimmed beard and shaggy looking hair that was dark brown, not auburn. Also his eyes were brown, whereas Robb's were blue. Robb was born with his mother's Tully features, and this man was neither a Tully nor a Stark.

"It's not him," Tyrion said. He looked up at his father, whose eyes were wide. "This is not Robb Stark!" he said once more, his voice loud.

"Deception," Ser Harys Swyft, Uncle Kevan's good-father, said. Tyrion rolled his eyes in annoyance. _A blind fool could've figured that one out_ , he thought.

"Send word to Ser Addam Marbrand, and command him to regroup with us immediately," Tywin ordered one of the knights present. The knight bowed and voiced his acknowledgement before riding off. "How could I have been so blind? We must leave, now."

"Tywin?" Kevan asked uncertainly. Tywin looked up at him, his eyes slightly wider than Tyrion could ever remember seeing them.

"We have walked into a trap," was all he said.

Almost as soon as the words had left Tywin's mouth the said trap was sprung. Tyrion was looking up to his father thinking on his words when three arrows hit his horse, one of them punching through Tywin's right calf. The Old Lion cried out in pain as his horse fell to the side with barely a sound as the other two arrows had struck it in the right side of the neck and head. The horse fell on top of Tywin's left leg, crushing and judging by the sounds that Tyrion heard breaking the leg, forcing another cry of pain to leave Tywin's mouth. Tyrion stared at his wounded father, dumbfounded by what he had just seen, before hearing a roar of pain and anger coming from the Mountain as he was hit by several crossbow bolts. The Mountain dropped to his knees, snarling like a beast, and Tyrion looked all around them as he saw men emerge from the hills above.

"Oh fuck me," he said as the battle cries went up.

"For Karhold!"

"For White Harbour!"

"For Bear Island!"

"For Last Hearth!"

"For Cerwyn!"

"For Hornwood!"

"For the Dreadfort!"

"For Deepwood Motte!"

"For Torrhen's Square!" Many more battle cries went up all around them, until they were all silenced by the howl of a wolf. _Not a wolf, but a direwolf_ , Tyrion thought just before the next battle cry was sounded.

"FOR WINTERFELL!" came a single voice, loud and full of courage. And soon the true battle began.

The Northmen charged from their vantage points atop the hills as a volley of arrows rained down on the Westermen. Tyrion ran to grab the nearest shield and lift it up to protect him, just as several arrows landed around him. He heard Bronn cry out and turned to see an arrow had hit him in the right shoulder. Several men were brought down by the arrows, and the Mountain caught one arrow that had somehow hit him in a weak point in his armour. When the arrows had all fallen Tyrion dropped the heavy iron shield he had used and looked around him. He could not see much given his small stature, but he could hear the screams of men as they fought and died. Every now and then he was able to see people he knew fighting the Northmen, including his Clansmen. He watched as a fight between Chella and a young warrior woman with a bear sigil stamped on her armour ended with the warrior woman smashing her spiked mace into Chella's skull, pulverising the left side of her head. Off to the right Timmet was surrounded by dozens of Northmen, killing four or five before a spear violently exploded from his chest, followed by more being thrust into him. Tyrion turned to look at what was happening behind him, and he saw Shagga hacking away at men with his two battle axes before the biggest Northman he had ever seen walked forward with a massive and ugly greatsword in his hands. Tyrion saw the sigil stamped on the man's breastplate; a roaring giant with broken chains. The man's height and sigil meant that this was the infamous Greatjon Umber, and Tyrion felt his heart sink as the two warriors engaged in battle, already knowing the outcome, for the Umbers of Last Hearth are known for their ferocity in battle against the wildlings from beyond the Wall, and the Clansmen are no different from wildlings. After fighting for a few minutes the Greatjon got the upper hand and sliced Shagga in two from groin to scalp.

After watching the Clansmen chiefs fall Tyrion began to look for his horse, where he knew his axe would be secured. As he moved he felt the air part by his ear as an arrow flew past. Tyrion looked around nervously before he saw young Podrik cowering by a fallen horse that was feathered with many arrows. With a shake of his head Tyrion realised that it was his horse. _Another horse of mine killed by bloody Stark men_ , he thought bitterly. _Well, men loyal to Lady Stark's family anyway_. He ran to his horse and climbed over the dead beast's body to grab the haft of his axe. He got it in hand and then turned to look at the battle around him. He only took three steps forward before he felt his axe flying out of his hand, followed quickly by pain on the side of his right thumb. He looked down and saw that the leather of his gauntlet had been torn open and his blood oozed out. He looked to his right and saw his axe on the ground a couple of yards or so away from him with an arrow embedded in the haft. Tyrion sank to his knees and chuckled darkly at the Northmen and their luck.

A shout made Tyrion regain his senses, and he looked up and saw his uncle fighting with an older man with the image of battle axes on his cloak. Kevan got the upper hand and smashed the pommel of his sword into the older Northman's face, knocking him off of his horse. Soon after that though another Northman, this one young and with a bull moose's head stamped upon his boiled leather armour, came riding up with his sword drawn. Tyrion watched as Kevan fought the young Northman, the two of them hacking at each other and blocking each other's strikes. The fight lasted for only a couple of minutes before Kevan thrust his sword into the young man's neck, spraying blood from his throat.

"DARYN!" a man roared as the man slumped off of his horse. "THAT WAS MY SON YOU WESTERLAND SHIT!" the man yelled as he rode up to Kevan, engaging him in a dance of death. Like the younger man this man had a bull moose's head stamped on his armour, which was iron instead of boiled leather. This man landed more blows on Kevan, one of them slicing into his leg. Tyrion heard his uncle hiss in pain before he struck out once more, his blow severing the Northman's head just in time to begin fighting another Northman. Looking away from the fight that his uncle was having Tyrion saw that his father was still trapped under his horse, with Martyn by his side. Just past them he saw the Mountain struggling to fight many Northmen. He killed quite a few of them, but he was slowed down by the crossbow bolts that had been embedded in his armour, as well as the many blows from the Northmen. Finally a Northman with the Manderly's merman sigil on his steel armour rode up with a lance levelled and thrust it into Ser Gregor's flank, the tip bursting out under his sword arm. The Manderly rode off as the Mountain that Rides fell, never to rise again.

As the Northmen cheered at the death of the Mountain, the sound of dozens of horses riding close by drew Tyrion's attention. He looked off to his side and saw many Northmen approach. At the head was a young man sat on a barded warhorse, wearing a steel breast plate and boiled leather gauntlets with ringmail beneath. In his right hand was a steel longsword while in his left was a round iron shield with a direwolf head upon it. He wore a helm with no visor, and Tyrion could see his face. He had a neatly trimmed beard that was auburn in colour, and his eyes, which looked quite stern, were Tully blue. Beside his horse was a grey furred direwolf, who had blood covering his maw. This was Robb Stark, and he looked the very image of a Northern lord. Tyrion watched as Robb approached Kevan, raising his sword to him. Kevan urged his horse forward, and soon both of them were engaged in battle. Tyrion noticed that Robb's blade was coated in blood, as were parts of his armour. He watched as his uncle fought the young Stark, slashing, parrying, hacking, blocking, thrusting and swiping at each other. Kevan had the experience in battle, but Robb had youth on his side as well as strength. Kevan landed a blow that drew blood from Robb's shield-arm, but the Heir to Winterfell fought on regardless. The fight continued, with all men nearby who were fighting now watching their fight instead. Robb urged his horse closer to Kevan, smashing his shield at him. Kevan nearly fell from his horse and fought to stay on. That was all that Robb needed, Tyrion soon realised, as the Young Wolf slashed his sword down onto Kevan's wrist, severing his sword hand. Kevan yelled out in pain for only a few moments before Robb drew his sword over his left shoulder and slashed it towards Kevan's neck.

Tyrion watched with bile crawling up his throat as his uncle's head flew off, blood trailing from the stump. The head landed with a dull thud as his lifeless body swayed, before dropping to the ground. A loud cheer went up among the Northmen, while the men of the Westerlands broke. Tyrion looked around him as many began to flee, only to be brought down by the men of the North. He looked at his father and saw the look of defeat in his eyes.

"Father!" Martyn called out as he stood up from Tywin's side. Just then young Willem ran up to them.

"NO! FATHER NO!" he shrieked as he ran to his father's headless body. Willem dropped to his knees and wept as he clutched Kevan's body. Tyrion's heart broke for his little cousin. Afterwards he looked up at Robb and saw a brief look of pain flicker in his eyes. The young man dismounted his horse, his guard detail doing the same. As his feet met the ground Tyrion looked back to Martyn, who he noticed had drawn his sword.

"HEAR ME ROAR!" he bellowed the words of House Lannister as loud as he could with his childlike voice before running towards Robb with his sword raised. Tyrion blinked, his heart racing as fear gripped him. When Martyn was only a yard away Robb's direwolf lunged at him, knocking the sword out of his hand and tackling him to the ground. The beast bared its teeth at Martyn, who looked up at the animal with pure fear in his eyes.

"Grey Wind!" Robb called out, and the direwolf looked up at his master before wandering away. Martyn was then seized by a couple of Robb's guards and hauled to his feet. Tyrion looked up at Robb as he approached him with his bloody sword pointing at him. Knowing better than to fight an opponent who had the upper hand, Tyrion held his hands up in surrender.

"I yield," he said quietly. Robb nodded at him and then turned to walk over to Tywin, who Tyrion noticed was struggling to draw his sword. He watched as his father glared up at Robb, who pressed his blade against the side of Tywin's neck.

"Will you surrender to me Lord Lannister, or shall I claim your life this day?" he spoke, his voice loud. Tyrion looked at his father who grimaced in pain as he raised his hands up in surrender, a move that would have hurt his pride more than his broken leg hurt him.

"You may have won here boy," Tywin said with barely contained venom. "But my grandson will destroy you for this treason." Tyrion looked on as he felt a pair of hands lift him up to his feet before his own hands were bound with rope.

"Let's go Imp," the Northman said, leading Tyrion off.

"Somehow I doubt Joffrey will do that, especially once word of your defeat and capture has spread," Robb Stark stated as several Northmen wandered over to them.

As Tyrion was led away with his cousins, all three of them bound, he looked around the hills above them and smirked to himself.

"What're you smirking at Lannister?" one of the Northmen asked him, his voice laced with contempt.

"Nothing you need worry about," Tyrion replied, which earned him a jab to the side. He would not tell his captors that he was smirking because not that long ago he had thought about how easy it would be to annihilate his father's host if they were all in this same spot, with the hills around them. As they were escorted to wherever the Northmen were taking them Tyrion wondered what Joffrey would do once news of Tywin's defeat reaches King's Landing, and he hoped that Cersei would have the brains to make sure that her son did not do anything stupid. Then he thought about what Jamie will do when he hears about this. _He'll come charging over from Riverrun and try and fight his way to victory_ , Tyrion thought, his lips curling up at the thought before his smile fell. _But will he fight once he knows that Robb Stark holds_ all _of us?_

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Robb

He was still shocked by what he had managed to achieve. In all the weeks since his father's arrest Robb did not once think that he would ever succeed in taking Tywin Lannister prisoner. But he had done it. They had lost a lot of men in the battle, but they had won. He had sent a thousand men with one man posing as himself to lure the Old Lion into his trap, at the cost of all of the men in that host. Some of his lords were against such a plan, including the Greatjon and Lady Maege Mormont, but others had approved, such as Ser Wylis Manderly and Lord Roose Bolton. His mother's uncle Ser Brynden, the Blackfish, had originally suggested the idea to him after he decided against crossing the Twins, knowing that old Walder Frey would more than likely ask for a steep price that may or may not include a marriage pact. He had been beyond nervous when he set his plan into motion, and it took many days before Lord Tywin took the bait, but in the end he did. And now Robb was riding back to where his mother was waiting with her guard detail.

As his mother came into view, Robb slowed his horse down to a trot. He had on either side of him Lord Umber and Lady Mormont, as well as their heirs Smalljon and Dacey, the former being the eldest son of the Greatjon while the latter was the eldest daughter of Lady Maege. Behind him were Lord Karstark and his sons Harrion, Torrhen and Eddard, as well as the Lord of the Dreadfort, Roose Bolton. Robb looked over his shoulder and saw a cart being pulled by a pair of horses; on the back of that cart with his hands bound, his wounded calf wrapped in a bandage and his broken leg supported with a splint was Tywin Lannister himself, with a smug looking Theon Greyjoy riding alongside the cart. It was Theon's arrow that had struck Lord Lannister through his calf, punching through the leg and into his horse, although it was the two arrows loosed off by other archers that killed the horse. The battle had gone to plan, aside from the unexpected presence of Vale Clansmen, but they had been broken fairly quickly. Robb's goal was to capture Tywin and his brother Ser Kevan, but after the deaths of Lord Halys Hornwood and his son Daryn at Kevan Lannister's hands Robb decided to kill the younger brother of the Lord of Casterly Rock. His only regret was that one of Kevan's sons had to witness Robb killing him. But in the end Robb had captured four Lannisters as well as numerous knights and lesser lords of the Westerlands.

As Robb halted his horse in front of his mother, Lady Catelyn urged her own horse closer to him. She stopped when she was next to him, and seemed to examine him closely before speaking.

"You have blood on your armour," she said with some worry in her voice. Robb nodded his head slightly.

"Only the blood on this arm is mine mother," he responded as he raised his left forearm up to show the cut leather of his gauntlet. "A cut from Ser Kevan Lannister when I fought him in the battle." Catelyn looked from Robb's wounded arm to his eyes.

"You better make sure that you get that arm checked by a healer," she said firmly. Robb had to fight the urge to roll his eyes; it was just like his mother to worry about him over such a small cut. Kevan Lannister's blow was not deep, and it was more of a lucky strike than anything else, but he knew his mother's worry was for more than a simple cut; she was likely worried about the wound getting infected or something. Robb nodded his head in response before he continued.

"We have managed to get several prisoners," he spoke as he turned his horse around to lead his mother to the cart. "We now hold the Imp prisoner once again, as well as Ser Kevan's sons, Willem and his twin Martyn."

"What of Ser Kevan himself?" Catelyn asked him. Robb looked towards the cart before he answered.

"I killed him myself," he stated. There was no joy in his voice when he said that. He felt nothing for the man and he truly did not feel that he had enjoyed killing him. He remembers his father's words to him years ago when he was still a young boy of eight, when he and Jon had first witnessed their father carrying out an execution. " _You must take no joy when you take a man's life_ ," he had said to them after the execution was done. Robb shook his head as they continued to ride to the cart. "He had killed Lord Hornwood and his son Daryn, as well as injuring Lord Cerwyn. He would not yield, despite being surrounded."

"You did what you had to Robb," Catelyn said quietly. "Who else have we taken?" Robb looked at his mother before looking back at the cart again.

"We took Ser Harys Swyft, Ser Amory Lorch, a few other lords… we killed the Mountain, who had killed over a dozen men before Ser Wylis was able to thrust his lance into the man. But we have the most important Lord as our prisoner," Robb finished as he stopped his horse next to the cart. He did not need to look at his mother to know that she was looking at the man who lay there. "The Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West and Shield of Lannisport, Tywin Lannister." The older man glared at him before turning his glare upon his mother.

"Lady Stark," Tywin spoke, his voice defiant despite his defeat. "All of this could have been avoided had you not abducted Tyrion." Robb looked at his mother and noticed that she flinched slightly at the Old Lion's words. "What gave you the right to act in such a manner?"

"I believed that your son attempted to murder my son Brandon," Catelyn spoke, her voice full of anger. "Your son sent an assassin to slit my seven-year-old boy's throat as he lay in a coma after being pushed from a tower. His leg may never heal properly because of your family."

"Do not dare to lay blame on my House for that which we were not responsible for," Tywin stated, wincing in pain slightly. "Taking a Lannister has never gone unanswered, or did you forget what happens to those who cross swords with me. Did your father not teach you of what happened to Houses Reyne and Tarbeck? The song they call The Rains of Castamere has surly been played once or twice in your presence?" Robb saw his mother shudder at Tywin's words; he had heard the tune once before as a boy, and it had left him feeling some dread afterwards.

"Taking a grievance against my House is one thing, _my lord_ ," Robb intervened then, spitting the courtesy out with venom. "But sacking the Riverlands in retaliation of my lady mother's actions is beyond dishonourable." Tywin glared at Robb again, and he had to fight to not shudder at the man's glare.

"Do not speak to me of honour boy," he spat. "Your mother slighted the honour of my House when she took Tyrion. She had no right, regardless of her accusations against him. If she had any sense then she would have taken Tyrion straight before King Robert, not telling everyone that she was taking him to Winterfell before going to the Eyrie instead. Utter madness." Robb hardened his eyes as he glared at Tywin. _He is your prisoner, don't let him see your fear_ , he thought to himself.

"Putting innocents to the sword because your son was taken prisoner is madness Lannister," Robb retorted, raising his voice. "Ordering your men to murder those who cannot fight back is cowardly. Giving men leave to rape defenceless women and young girls is unforgivable, and any king who does not punish such an individual does not deserve to wear his crown, regardless of whether that individual is kin or not." Tywin Lannister continued to glare at Robb, but after a few moments he looked away. "You'll die for what you have done Lord Tywin," Robb added after a moment. "I will see to that myself."

"Will you now boy?" Tywin stated. "We shall see when Jamie hears of this. My eldest son holds Riverrun under siege, and if I am not mistaken he has your uncle, Ser Edmure Tully, as a prisoner. Lord Blackwood holds Riverrun while my son and the soldiers under his command hold the lands around Riverrun, as well as Lord Blackwood's seat at Raventree Hall. He will hear soon enough, and then we shall see." The old lord seemed quite confident in his son's skill, that much was clear to Robb, but Robb was more confident of victory himself; he would not tell Tywin Lannister just yet, but he had sent Ser Brynden Tully out to stop any Westermen from reporting back to the Kingslayer.

Rather than say another word to his prisoner, Robb turned his horse around and left the wounded lord in the cart, commanding Theon to follow him and his mother. Several Stark guardsmen walked over to watch their valuable prisoner while Robb and his companions rode away. For the next ten minutes Robb was silent as Theon spoke with Smalljon and Dacey further behind him. While Smalljon spoke with him Dacey largely ignored Theon; the Mormonts of Bear Island and their smallfolk have little love for the Ironborn after all.

"Lady Dacey, may I speak with you?" Catelyn asked the heir of Lady Maege. The young Mormont woman rode up to her and Robb, who looked over to them.

"Yes, my lady?" she asked once she was beside them. Robb noticed his mother smirk at her.

"Let's just have some idle chatter," she responded. "I noticed that you had little inclination to speak with Theon." Robb smiled once he realised what his mother had just done. Dacey smiled, and her eyes held a look of relief as well.

"I hold no ill will towards Theon my lady," she said. "I just find it difficult to interact with the likes of him."

"Because he is Ironborn," Robb said quietly to her. Dacey looked at him and after a moment she nodded her head. "My father taught me about the hatred between the folk of Bear Island and the Iron Islands. It was that hatred that saw the womenfolk of Bear Island learn to fight, and is the reason why the ladies of House Mormont are some of the fiercest fighters in the North." Dacey seemed to smirk at Robb's words, but it quickly turned into a grimace.

"I mean no disrespect to him, and not just because of the history between our people. Theon Greyjoy has been raised beside you and your siblings for nearly ten years. He is more Northman than Ironborn. His situation makes me feel sorry for him in a way," Dacey said. Robb looked at her, confused by her words.

"What do you mean by that Dacey?" he asked, noticing the look his mother gave him for not using Dacey's title. Dacey looked thoughtful before she gave her answer.

"He has been raised at Winterfell for most of his life. When and if the time comes for him to return to Pyke, he will have to prove himself to his lords and the smallfolk, who on the Iron Islands are a warrior people with a lust for murder and rape when they sail beyond their isles. They take women against their will to become salt wives, there purely for their pleasure, while they fight and slaughter men at any opportunity. If Theon should find himself in the position of being urged to attack the North, he will be in the most horrifying of situations where he will have to choose between fighting against those he has lived with for many years, or being seen as weak and possibly killed for it by his own people, perhaps even by his own family."

With her piece said the three of them fell silent for a time, Dacey's words repeating in Robb's own head. He has known that Theon was a hostage as much as a ward for as long as he has known him. Robb knows that he has been held to ensure that his father Lord Balon Greyjoy behaved himself after his failed rebellion against King Robert ten years ago. But not once has Robb thought of such a situation; it has never crossed his mind that one day the man he has called a friend and regarded as a brother for many years may become an enemy to prove himself to his family and his people or risk being killed by his own. It was an unpleasant thing to think about. As he was riding along thinking about Dacey's words his mother started another conversation.

"I have been meaning to ask you something Lady Dacey," Catelyn said then. Robb looked to the two women to hear what was about to be said. "Many months ago, before King Robert came to Winterfell, my lord husband and I had discussed fostering Arya, my youngest daughter, with your lady mother at Bear Island." Robb's eyes widened at what he heard; he knew that his parents had discussed and even argued about fostering Arya, but he did not think that they would ever have considered the Mormont's seat. "When this conflict has been resolved and my family returned to Winterfell, I would be honoured to send my youngest daughter to foster with your family." Dacey looked at Robb's mother with what he thought was a stunned look.

"Are you sure Lady Stark?" Dacey asked. "You do know that the women of my family are known to train in the arts of war as well as learn the womanly pursuits?" Catelyn nodded her head.

"It was for that reason that I initially refused Ned," she said. "He had argued that your mother would be more than capable of teaching Arya what she needed to know to be a lady of the North without causing too much trouble. We had argued over it and never resolved the issue when King Robert took Ned and the girls south with him." Robb saw the look of regret that his mother had in her eyes over what she had just told them. He cleared his throat to gain their attention.

"Perhaps it would be best to wait and see what Arya says," he said to them. "I would like to see my little sister back home, and then if she is willing we can discuss sending her to foster at Bear Island if Lady Maege is willing to have her." Both Catelyn and Dacey seemed to agree with his words, judging by their expressions. "Oh and a word of warning for you Dacey; Arya will more than likely be quite a handful for you and your mother," he added. Dacey laughed.

"My mother has had to raise me and my four little sisters Robb," she said while laughing. "I think it is Arya who will find us to be a handful." With that they resumed their ride in a comfortable silence.

As soon as Robb and his companions had dismounted their horses a guardsman wandered over to them. The man wore the colours of House Umber and spoke directly with the Greatjon before going up to Robb.

"Milord Stark," he said. "A rider has just come back from Ser Brynden Tully's outriders. They have managed to capture Ser Addam Marbrand and eliminate his surviving host. As far as can be told, all Westermen are either dead or held prisoner." That news brought a smile to Robb, who handed his reins to a stable boy who was waiting nearby.

"Very good," he said with his lord's voice, a talent his father had taught him over the last few years. "Send word to him to continue on towards Riverrun and keep the Kingslayer's host ignorant of our presence."

"Will do milord," the man said with a bow before walking off to carry out Robb's command. Robb turned to look at Lord Umber who was smirking wide as if ready to laugh. Just then Grey Wind padded past the giant Northern lord who glanced at the direwolf with discomfort, no doubt still a touch fearful of the beast after he tore off and ate two of the Greatjon's fingers; it was after that incident that the Greatjon became Robb's most loyal champion.

"Old Tywin Lannister beaten and humiliated, his brother dead by your hand, his son the Imp our prisoner as well along with Tywin's nephews, and the Kingslayer doesn't know a damned thing about it," the Greatjon said with a chortle. "I'd say that the Lannisters are well and truly fucked now, begging your pardons my lady," he said while looking at Catelyn. Robb saw his mother give a slight smile at the Greatjon's words. Smalljon chuckled at his father while Lady Maege just shook her head with an amused look in her eye. Dacey stood with her arms folded and one hip resting against a barrel that she was stood next to.

"Well, we should get ourselves some ale down our throats I think," Theon spoke as he walked over to Robb's side with a mischievous grin.

"I agree," Robb said. "After you my lords and ladies." At that everyone entered the command tent, with Robb hanging back until they were all in. Before he entered his mother put a hand on his shoulder.

"I have noticed that you seem to be quite familiar with Lady Dacey Robb," she said, catching him off guard. Robb swallowed before he spoke to his mother.

"I am quite familiar with most of them mother," he said.

"Well, I have not heard you address either Lord Umber or Lady Mormont with the same familiarity as you have with Lady Mormont's daughter," Catelyn responded with a slight smile. Before Robb could answer the flaps of the tent were pulled aside to reveal Smalljon Umber.

"Robb, you coming in just now or shall I tell my father and the others to wait before drinking?" he asked, to which Robb smiled.

"I shall wait for Lord Karstark and his sons to join us Smalljon," he said just as the men in question walked into view. "I'll join you in a moment." He had only just finished speaking when Harrion walked up and patted him on the shoulder.

"Good plan there Robb. Must say I never once doubted it," Harrion spoke with a smile.

"Thanks Harrion," Robb answered before looking at his younger brothers Torrhen and Eddard. "Torr, Edd, how are you both doing?" As he asked his question he noticed his mother raise her eyebrows.

"Aye, we're okay Robb," Torrhen answered.

"Just a couple of dents to my armour, nothing a blacksmith can't handle," Eddard said. The three sons of Rickard Karstark walked into the tent while the Lord of Karhold himself gave Robb a respectful look.

"You're doing quite alright so far lad," he said. "You'll make Ned proud once he hears of what you have achieved." Robb was glad that his face was still covered in muck and blood as it helped to hide the blush he got from Lord Karstark's praise.

"Thank you Lord Karstark," he said to him. As the older man walked in Robb looked back at his mother, who looked at him with a raised brow. "I address the lords of the North as befits their rank, but their heirs and other children I speak with as equals," he said by way of explanation. Catelyn however just folded her arms.

"That does not explain why you speak with Lady Dacey with such familiarity Robb," she said. "I remember years ago when you were seven when Lord Karstark came to Winterfell with his family. You spoke with his sons as if you had known them for a long time, but you always addressed his daughter Alys as 'Lady Alys' or simply 'my lady'." It was with those words that Robb finally realised what his mother was insinuating, and this time no amount of muck and blood on his face could hide the blush that crept up onto his cheeks. That time when Lord Karstark came to Winterfell with his sons and daughter Robb had been told that the Lord of Karhold had been trying to arrange a match between him and his daughter Alys. Shaking his head he rubbed his hand over his face.

"Honestly mother, I do not have any… romantic feelings towards Dacey," he said. "She has made it clear to me that she will not be married to any man who would take her away from Bear Island. Any man she marries would either have to be of a lower station or be willing to give up _their_ inheritance. Also mother," he said stepping closer to Catelyn, "Dacey told me that she hates being addressed as 'my lady', hence why I call her by her first name." With his explanation given Catelyn seemed to now understand that there was no romance going on or anything else that would otherwise be inappropriate, as a septa would no doubt say.

Robb and his mother entered the tent and sat around the table where the others had gathered. Theon had gotten several tankards out and was just starting to fill them up with ale. As he was pouring drinks other lords entered the tent, including Galbart Glover and Ser Helman Tallhart. Robb pulled out his mother's chair for her and then once she was sat down he wandered over to Theon and took a tankard of ale. Theon sat down after making sure that everyone had a drink, including Robb's mother who had a cup of water that she had poured herself before taking a seat. Robb raised his drink, and the others did the same.

"To the men who gave their lives to draw the Old Lion into our trap," he said as he raised his tankard a little higher. "And to a swift end to this conflict." The other's gathered in the tent raised their own tankards and then they all took a drink. Afterwards Robb sat down, and soon they started to discuss what to do next. Robb had already decided on what to do but he listened to what his lords said. After a while he looked at his mother and waited to see if she would speak. Only when she remained silent did Robb speak. "We shall aid Riverrun by luring out the Kingslayer and trapping him before we destroy his host," he said. "Ser Helman, I leave you in charge of Harrenhal's defence. You shall have twelve-thousand men, as well as Lady Mormont and half of her force. Ser Donnel Locke shall continue to keep an eye on the Twins for us with his thousand men, leaving us with less than five-thousand to march with me to Riverrun."

"With less than five-thousand we will be outnumbered by the Kingslayer's host," Harrion Karstark said. Robb nodded to him in response.

"I shall send riders throughout the Riverlands to seek out those lords loyal to my grandfather," he said. "Galbart Glover, Ser Wylis Manderly." The two men in question stood up and waited for Robb to continue. "I want the two of you to organise the riders in question. Send word to Lord Mallister at Seagard and ask for his aid in breaking the siege at Riverrun. Also send out word to Lords Bracken, Vance and Piper. And send a message to the Twins as well."

"Would it be wise to involve the Freys my lord?" asked Lord Bolton in that quiet voice of his. "Lord Walder's second son is after all married to Tywin Lannister's sister." Robb considered Lord Bolton's words carefully before he answered.

"We hold Tywin Lannister as our prisoner, as well as the Imp and Ser Kevan's twin sons Willem and Martyn," Robb stated. "If the Old Lion's sister wants her kin back she will need to consult with Lord Frey before trying to send his men after us, and somehow I doubt that the Lord of the Crossing will stand against us after word of our victory reaches them." It was at that point that Robb's mother spoke.

"Lord Walder Frey is a cautious man," she said when everyone looked at her. "He would not march when victory is not assured or when there is the strong chance of retribution being carried out against him. But I am certain that he would send some aid if given the right incentive." Robb knew what his mother meant by those words. He took a moment to think before he stood up and gave his answer.

"If he wants a good match for a daughter or granddaughter of his then we can discuss such a thing," he said. "But I tell everyone here now that I will not and shall not marry a Frey." He saw how Catelyn narrowed her eyes at him as he spoke those words. "I mean no malice when I say that, but it is unprecedented and unheard of for two consecutive Ladies of Winterfell to be born outside of the North. When I marry I intend to take a wife from a noble House of the North, but such a thing shall wait until after I have returned to Winterfell. Now unless there is something that anyone feels they need to say, I suggest we all drink up, get some food down our throats and then rest. We march at first light."

* * *

Olyvar

Olyvar rushed through the halls of the Twins, sweat pouring down his forehead. He was anxious to know what was happening in the great hall where he and all of his large family had been summoned to. All he knows is that it concerns his father Lord Walder, the head of House Frey and Lord of the Crossing. His younger sister Roslin had found him and told him of their brother Ser Stevron's command. Olyvar was anxious; he wondered if the meeting was called because of the war that is being fought in the Riverlands. At seventeen he was nervous and excited by the prospect of fighting, for he has always wanted to be a knight like his eldest full-blooded brother Perwyn and his eldest half-brother Stevron who was old enough to be his grandfather (just as their father was old enough to be his grandfather), but the thought of dying in battle always scared him.

After rushing through the halls for several minutes he found himself at the doors of the great hall, which were already open. Olyvar walked through the doors and moved past his numerous kin; brothers and sisters, full-blooded and half; nieces and nephews, older and younger; great-nieces and great-nephews; trueborn and bastard-born. The Twins were full of Freys. Olyvar had once heard a jape saying that his father Lord Walder could field an army from his breeches with how many descendants he has. After moving (and in some instances pushing) through the crowd Olyvar found himself a seat to take. As he looked around he saw Roslin walking over to him, with their younger half-sister Shirei holding her hand. The two girls sat down beside him.

"Do you know what is happening?" Roslin asked. Olyvar shook his head.

"I've no idea Roslin," he said. "But whatever it is, it can't be good." Almost as soon as he had finished talking Stevron appeared and walked up to their father's seat. The seat was made of black oak with the back carved in the shape of two towers joined by an arched bridge. As Stevron Frey approached the seat the great hall fell silent. Stevron stood looking at the seat, his head bowed. Olyvar watched as his eldest brother stood for what seemed like an eternity before the man turned around, his eyes hollow and red.

"My kin," the aged knight spoke, his soft voice loud in the quiet hall. "It is with great sadness that I inform you all that our sire, Lord Walder, has died." Stevron's announcement was met with gasps, most of them quiet. It was known that Walder Frey was coming to the end of his life but still no one expected him to die so soon, even though he was ninety years old. "He died peacefully in his sleep last night after visiting the chambers of our good-mother Lady Joyeuse. The Maester confirms that it was simply old age that took our sire from us. May the Mother have mercy on his soul." The great hall descended into chatter then, before Stevron held his hand up. "Our sire has kept us here for our own safety during the conflict that has ravaged much of the Riverlands, and has to our shame ignored our liege lord's command to send aid. Therefore as the Lord of the Crossing after Lord Walder's death it falls to me to ensure that we uphold our oath. I call upon all of my able bodied kin to take up arms and march for Riverrun to lift the siege, and to rescue our liege's son and heir Ser Edmure. I have sent our brother Ser Perwyn to treat with the Northmen who were left outside our walls by the Young Wolf to see if they will be willing to assist us in bringing aid to Riverrun."

"What if they won't assist us though?" someone in the crowd asked. Stevron's eyes seemed to fall then, and the man was silent before he answered.

"Then we shall not interact with them unless they give us reason to do so," he answered. "I do not expect them to offer to help us with relieving Riverrun, seeing as they were left there to keep an eye on us. But should they decide to help then we shall allow them to cross without delay or toll." Those words were followed by many cries of anger.

"But we've always collected our toll Stevron," one of the older Freys said loudly.

"Indeed we have brother, but we have neglected our duty to Lord Tully, and so we must make amends for that," Stevron replied. That made sense to Olyvar, even though others did not agree with it.

After a long hour of talking Stevron dismissed everyone in the hall, except for Olyvar and his sister Roslin. The two of them stayed behind while everyone else left. Olyvar's nephew Ryman (Stevron's eldest son who was older than Olyvar) was also stood in the hall along with his sons. Once everyone else had left Stevron walked up to them.

"Chaos," he murmured. "Pure and utter chaos."

"We should take the fight straight to the Lannisters father," Ryman said. Stevron looked at his son, glaring at him.

"Should we now? March our four-thousand men to Riverrun, where a host of fifteen-thousand Westermen led by Ser Jamie Lannister of all people are stood outside? Yes they may have been forced to split their numbers into three separate camps, but they would still be able to mount an effective defence against our own host and still destroy us. Can you suggest how we can defeat them Ryman? Well?" Ryman looked down to the floor, his eyes looking anywhere but at his father. "I thought not. Now go outside and make sure our men are ready to march." With his command given Ryman left the great hall, his sons following him. Once they were gone Stevron sighed.

"My lord?" Roslin asked, earning a chuckle from their brother.

"It's just family here Roslin," he said. "The name our lord father gave me will suffice." Olyvar chuckled briefly at that before managing to stop himself. "My eldest son advocates going straight up to Jamie Lannister's host, completely forgetting that my brother Emmon's sons are squires in Ser Jamie's host. His own cousins, and he would not think twice about drawing steel against his kin." Olyvar watched as Stevron shook his head. The aged knight sat down before them and took a deep breath before continuing. "I shall leave Lothar in charge of running the Twins in my stead. I will send the bulk of our forces to the Whispering Wood to watch the siege. I will be riding to meet up with young Robb Stark and to see if we can come to an agreement." Olyvar heard a slight gasp coming from Roslin.

"Do you mean a marriage pact?" she asked. Olyvar was not sure if her voice was full of hope or worry. Stevron smiled.

"I will see about a marriage, but I do not think the young Stark will consent to wedding you or any of our sisters," he said.

"And why wouldn't he?" Olyvar asked. "Even a fool could see that Roslin is a beauty." His elder brother laughed before fixing Olyvar with a serious look.

"Young Stark's mother is Lady Catelyn of House Tully," he responded. "Our liege lord's oldest daughter. It is unheard of for two Ladies of Winterfell to be born outside of the North. To keep his father's bannermen from grumbling too much young Robb will have to take a young Northern bride, so I have no hope of seeing any of our sisters marrying him. But, as long as we do this carefully and without causing offence to the Northmen, I am almost certain that I can convince the lordling and his mother to help me convince Ser Edmure to marry you Roslin." Olyvar looked to his sister, and was pleased to find that she was just as stunned as he was.

"Me?" she asked. "But I thought that Lord Tully would not want his son to wed a lady of our House?" Stevron nodded his head.

"Lord Hoster is not long for this world I believe," he said. "I doubt that he will see the end of this war. When that happens then I will begin talks with Ser Edmure, and hopefully I can get his sister and nephew on side too." He sat up straighter as he spoke. "I will see you wed to a powerful lord Roslin. It was father's wish that you marry well, being the fairest of his daughters, and I shall see it done." Olyvar leant back in his seat as Stevron said those words.

"If Ser Edmure doesn't take Roslin as his bride then what will you do?" he asked Stevron. The older man looked at him with a small smile.

"You let me worry over that Olyvar," he said. "Besides, I have a different task for you." Olyvar looked up at his brother then, his eyes widening and his heart racing. "You shall ride with me when I go to meet with the Northern host. We received a messenger from one of our own spies that Robb Stark has somehow smashed the host of Tywin Lannister and captured him, along with many other Westermen." Upon hearing those words Olyvar was astonished; it was widely believed that no one could ever defeat the Lord of Casterly Rock, and yet some lordling has managed to achieve just that.

"How was that possible?" Roslin asked before Olyvar could say anything.

"I am not entirely sure Roslin," Stevron said with a smile. "There was a lot said that I am still trying to make sense of. The man in question who witnessed the battle had to evade outriders that were led by the Blackfish, Ser Brynden Tully." Olyvar's eyes widened further at this.

"I thought that the Blackfish was in the Vale of Arryn?" he stammered. Stevron's smile turned into a smirk.

"It seems that he decided to aid the son of his eldest niece," he said. "Now then, Roslin. You shall stay here for now until I send for you. When I do you will be escorted to Riverrun where you will hopefully marry Ser Edmure, or another lord if that does not happen. Of course, that will not happen for quite some time. As for you Olyvar, we shall ride out on the morrow with our host. We will join up with the Young Wolf, and so long as he agrees you shall become his squire." Olyvar's heart was now thumping with excitement. "From what I know Robb Stark is a couple of years younger than you, but he is very much like his father Lord Eddard. Honourable and loyal like his father, and if what we have heard is true then it would seem that he is an incredible strategist. Of course he may very well have had help with his planning, but if that is the case then we can be assured that we should achieve victory in this conflict. Now then, away with the both of you, I have some work to do before I leave the Twins in Lothar's care. Olyvar, start packing what you need, the life of a squire is hard and arduous." With those words spoken Olyvar and Roslin left the great hall, both of them excited and nervous.

* * *

Jon

Jon was very angry when Bran told him what was happening. He had never felt so angry in his entire life, but now his hands trembled with fury. Some months ago Jon was set to become a ranger of the Night's Watch, which was all he had wanted, but the plotting of Alliser Thorne had scuppered that. When he arrived at the Wall months ago he did not fit in with the others until a conversation with Donal Noye, a steward of the Watch, led him to rethink his own attitude towards them. After a few weeks Jon had befriended most of the other recruits, but at the same time earned the enmity of Ser Alliser, the master-at-arms of Castle Black. This was further worsened when Sam came to the Wall.

Samwell Tarly was the oldest son of Lord Randyll Tarly, the Lord of Horn Hill in the Reach. Unlike his father who was a renowned general Sam was a craven; he was also fat, and was timid and unsure of himself, yet despite that Jon could see that he was an intelligent young man. Jon helped him when others would not, much to Thorne's annoyance. Sam was a good friend to Jon, even supporting him as he got more concerned over the disappearance of his Uncle Benjen, the First Ranger of the Night's Watch. But after a few weeks word came from the Shadow Tower that Benjen was recovering from injuries sustained during his ranging. It was on that same day that Jon was to swear his oath and become a sworn brother of the Watch. But as Lord Commander Jeor Mormont read out where all the recruits were to go Jon's heart sank when he heard that he was to be made a steward instead of a ranger. Jon was angry at this, and saw the pleased look that Thorne had on his face, and he knew that the master-at-arms was behind this, probably because he helped to get Sam inducted sooner than he should have been to spare him from the training that Thorne would put him through. In anger Jon stormed out of the sept where the recruits were told which orders they would be given to. After spending the next hour thinking about it Jon decided to leave; he came to Castle Black a free man and so he was free to leave until he took his vows. As he had not yet taken his vows he was going to leave the Wall behind him. His uncle was safe at the Shadow Tower recovering from his wounds and so he felt that there was no need for him to stay, especially if all he was going to get was Thorne's gloating.

Much to Jon's surprise, and the surprise of the Lord Commander, Jon was not the only one to decide to leave. Grenn, Pyp and Sam all joined him as he left, as none of them took their vows either and they arrived at the Wall as free men. They followed him in protest at the decision to make Jon a steward instead of a ranger. Jon left the Wall with Ghost alongside him, as well as the others. They stayed at Moles Town for four weeks before they were able to get more money and supplies to go south to Winterfell. Jon was apprehensive about going back to his father's home; he was worried at how Lady Catelyn would react to him returning. Instead he arrived a fortnight after leaving Moles Town to find that Robb had taken an army south to free their father, who had been arrested for treason. Jon learned that Lady Catelyn had gone to King's Landing to tell his father of an attempt on Bran's life, and on the way back with Ser Rodrik she had encountered and arrested Lord Tyrion, believing him to be responsible. Jon could not quite understand how Lady Catelyn came to that conclusion, but that did not matter now.

Jon was sat by the table with Grenn, Pyp and Sam sat around him. Ser Rodrik was stood beside him, a grim look in his eyes. Bran had told him how Lord Commander Mormont had sent a letter to Winterfell by raven telling them that Jon had left before taking his vows. Bran was happy that Jon was back; he seemed happy despite the state of his leg. When he had fallen he had the good fortune of landing on a cart that had some hay on it. There was enough hay to save him from being crippled, but not enough to prevent him from striking his head against the side of the cart and twisting his leg. Maester Luwin had assured them at the time that the leg could still heal if Bran was careful when moving around. From what Jon heard Bran struggled for a while before he was able to adapt to his situation. As he thought on all he had learned he found his hands trembling in anger. He was so angry at what happened to father and his sisters; Sansa was being held by Joffrey while there was nothing about Arya, which made Jon very angry.

"Hey Jon, ease up," Grenn said. "You look ready to throttle someone." Jon let out a sigh.

"Give me the opportunity and I'll throttle Joffrey," he said through gritted teeth. Ser Rodrik laughed.

"I think you'll have to join a long line there Jon," he said. "A lot of folk would love to wring his neck." Jon chuckled slightly at Rodrik's words. Just then the door opened to reveal Bran hobbling in on a cane with Maester Luwin close by. "Hello Bran," Rodrik said. Jon looked over to his brother.

"My lord," he spoke with a slight grin on his face, a grin that Bran returned.

"It seems that you have gotten worse with you formalities Jon," he said. It warmed Jon's heart to see Bran on his feet, despite the awkwardness of walking with a poor leg. Once Bran was sat down Jon's face became sombre again.

"Any more news about what's going on in the south?" he asked. Bran sighed as he reached for a cup of water.

"Still nothing Jon," he said. "A messenger sent by Robb after he reached the Twins stated that he would not send any letters to us until after he has lifted the siege at Riverrun. That was a few weeks ago. For all we know Robb could have already taken the Kingslayer prisoner or killed him." Jon looked down at the table they were sat at before reaching over to take a cup and fill it with water from the jug in front of him.

"I should be there," he said as he looked up at Bran. "He'll need me at his side." Rodrik chuckled next to him as he sat down.

"By the time you get there he might well have won the battles and got your lord father back," he said. Jon sank into his seat, letting out a long deep breath.

"Ser Rodrik's right Jon," Sam said. "You might as well just stay here and help to train the other men. You know… just in case those men are needed."

"Aye," Grenn spoke up. "It'll give me and Pyp a chance to improve our skills with a sword. And see if your Ser Rodrik here can teach us anything that you haven't." Jon looked at his friends and saw the smiles on their faces. Rodrik laughed gruffly.

"I hope you've been saying nothing other than the truth about me lad," he said. Jon smirked.

"Oh I've only told them the good things about you. Just the good things, not the important things," Jon said. Rodrik chuckled at that, with a look much like the sort seen on the face of a man who is plotting something truly terrible. Jon struggled not to laugh at the looks of worry on both Grenn and Pyp's faces.

Just as Jon was about to laugh loudly a servant entered the room, followed by a guardsman with the Stark direwolf stamped on his leather armour. The guardsman looked like he has ridden hard for some time.

"Many pardons milord," the servant said. "This man has arrived from south of the Neck from the camp outside of the Twins. He has an important message from Lord Robb." Jon noticed how Bran's face had become very serious then.

"Very well," he spoke with his voice (while still that of a child) full of authority. "What news does my brother send?" he asked the guardsman. The man bowed before them and held out a sealed letter.

"Lord Robb Stark sends word of his victory at the Green Fork of the Trident," he said as Bran took the letter. "He sent commands for news to be spread throughout the North, though I have not been told of the contents of the letter." Bran broke the seal on the letter as the guardsman spoke. Jon noticed that the seal was the racing direwolf, the sigil of House Stark. Bran read the letter slowly, his eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the words before after a while they widened. Jon looked at his little brother, watching him read the letter. After a moment Bran looked up at him, a wide smile on his face.

"Robb has taken Tywin Lannister prisoner," he said. Jon stared wide eyed at his brother, his mouth hanging open.

"What?" Sam spoke then. "B...but, how could…could he have managed that?" he was able to stammer out. Bran looked up at Sam, the smile not leaving his face.

"He hasn't gone into detail in his letter," Bran said. "What he does say is that he managed to lure Lord Lannister into a trap where he was able to surround him and take him alive. It's brilliant."

"How's that brilliant?" Grenn asked.

"How's that meant to get the King to release Lord Stark?" asked Pyp.

"Tywin Lannister is King Joffrey's grandfather," Jon answered his friends. "The Queen is his daughter. Queen Cersei will do anything to see her family delivered to her safely, perhaps even release my father and sisters."

"Hopefully," Rodrik said then. "We have to hope that the boy on the throne will pay attention. Something tells me that he won't. I don't know what it is, but that day Bran," he said as he looked towards Bran, "when I oversaw the sparring between you and Prince Tommen, something about the new King said that he wanted to make a statement. I'll be damned if I know what though, but thinking back on it makes me nervous." Jon nodded his head in agreement.

"You mean when you denied Joffrey live steel when he was to go against Robb for a second time that day in the tiltyard," he said, remembering when he was watching from a window with Arya stood next to him.

"Aye lad," Rodrik said. "With a boy like that as a king, anything could happen. All we can do is pray that it won't be anything bad."

For the rest of the day Jon and the others conversed and spoke of how things had been since Jon was last at Winterfell. As they spoke they ate and drank before it was time for sleep. Bran hobbled back to his rooms with help from Maester Luwin and Jon, with Ghost walking beside Summer, Bran's direwolf. Once he was settled Jon left for his own rooms, which were bare. He sat down on the bed after putting some more logs on the fire, and before long he drifted off to sleep. As he slept he dreamed, and his dreams disturbed him. Jon saw his father's head being displayed by a man wielding Ice, the ancestral sword of House Stark, with blood dripping from the blade; he saw Sansa crying as she was being tormented and humiliated by Joffrey, with her dress being ripped off of her by Joffrey's Kingsguard; he saw Arya being chased by Lannister men as they slaughter countless other people before she is grabbed by a brute of a man who then drags her off into the woods, ripping her breeches down as she struggles against him. Just as he realises what is going on each time Jon tries to run and help his father and sisters; he tries to reach his father and kill the man who beheads him; he tries to stop Sansa's torment before the Kingsguard use the flat side of their swords to beat her; he rushes to save Arya before the man can rape her. And each time he fails. Finally after the dreams have played in his head several times he finds himself in the godswood of Winterfell, walking beside Ghost as they make their way to the weirwood at the heart of the godswood. Once there he kneels before the tree and prays to the old gods.

"Keep them safe in the south," he pleads softly. "Don't let any harm befall them. Watch over them, don't let Joffrey hurt them any more than he already has done." As he finished his prayer the leaves rustled in the wind, and a voice spoke softly to him.

" _Go south Jon Snow_ ," the voice said to him. " _Go south and there you will meet your destiny, and save your kin_." Jon felt a shudder run up his spine, and before he knew it he was sitting upright in his bed in Winterfell, sweat pouring down his face as the sun shined through the window. As he sat there in his bed he thought about what he dreamed. Had the old gods actually just told him to go south, or was he losing his mind? Jon felt that he had to go to Robb, but he felt that he should stay with Bran and keep him safe. But what if what he saw in his dreams were to become true? Could he live with himself if his father was killed and his sisters humiliated and violated by Joffrey's men? Could he forgive himself, especially if those things could be avoided simply by him going south? And what if those dreams were just that, dreams?

In the end Jon knew exactly what he had to do. So he got out of his bed, washed himself and then walked to the kitchens to get himself some food. After he had eaten Jon searched for his brother, and found him sat outside watching Rickon play with Shaggydog and Summer.

"Bran," he called out to him. Bran turned his head to look at him and upon seeing the serious look in Jon's eyes his own smile faded.

"You're going south, aren't you?" he stated. Jon nodded his head. "I saw it last night as I slept. I watched in my dreams as you left with some companions to go to Robb and help him free father and Sansa and Arya." Bran's words made Jon blink in confusion.

"But, how could you…" he started before trailing off. Bran smiled slightly before he shrugged his shoulders.

"Since I woke up I have had dreams that sometimes became real," he said. "I thought nothing of it, until you came back with your friends, and told us that Uncle Benjen had returned to the Wall and was recovering at the Shadow Tower. I had seen you return, and I had seen our uncle limp into the Shadow Tower with a wounded arm." Jon was surprised at this, especially as he did not tell Bran about their uncle's injuries, which he had been told of by Maester Aemon when the message came. "Go south Jon," Bran said. "If you being there helps our family, then go. You may not have Tully blood but the words of my mother's House apply to you as well."

"Family, Duty, Honour," Jon murmured. Bran nodded his head.

"Go and help Robb Jon. He'll need your help now more than ever. And remember this; you are a Stark of Winterfell. Wherever we go winter follows, and when you and Robb march on the capitol together Joffrey will soon know that Winter is Coming for him."

So Jon made his preparations and gathered Grenn and Pyp. Sam decided to follow despite Jon insisting that he stay at Winterfell, and to his surprise Ser Rodrik showed up with half a dozen men, telling him that they will help with getting Jon down to Riverrun and then they will join with the army. Jon thanked the old master-at-arms before mounting his horse. Before long he was ready, and then the gates opened up. Jon bid his brothers farewell, and then he rode off, to the south.

And to war...


	2. The Game Changes

**Author's Note:** Here is chapter 2 guys. So I'm gonna be honest and say that this story will have my attention for now. For those who are following TKoSaW, it will be a bit longer until the new chapter is out as I am having to redo the whole chapter as my old laptop died on me, resulting in me losing the old version. I'll get on it asap, so once again, I'm very sorry.

Anyway, without further ado, read on and let me know what you think guys. Cheers.

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 **The Game Changes**

* * *

Varys

The silence in the room was deafening. Everyone was sat down around the table of the room set aside for the small council to use. Queen Cersei was red with fury, while all of the others were sat uncomfortably; Littlefinger looked a little pale while Pycelle was looking ready to drop; the corrupt commander of the Gold Cloaks, Janos Slynt, was wide eyed with fear, and the boy who sat the Iron Throne looked very frightened and pitiful. Varys of course had to paint a face of discomfort for everyone else to see, though in truth he was quite impressed with this news. The messenger who arrived just this morning had brought news that Varys (and indeed everyone else) did not expect. Only eight days ago, Robb Stark had successfully trapped and captured Tywin Lannister just east of the Green Fork of the Trident river. Such news was not expected by anyone, for the Lord of Casterly Rock has never been defeated.

"Those Northmen have captured my father?" Cersei said, her tone laced with hatred.

"Yes your grace," the messenger said uncertainly. "The Northmen lured Lord Tywin into a trap, using a decoy to pose as Robb Stark. Ser Gregor Clegane led the charge against the host that the Northmen used as the lure. They were all slaughtered, but for everyone of theirs slain they killed one of our own in return. Only after we slaughtered that host were we trapped by the rest of the Northmen, and then we realised that we were surrounded. Lord Tywin was wounded by an arrow that pierced his calf, and his horse was brought down by two more arrows. His mount fell on his other leg, trapping him. After that the Stark men charged in and surrounded us. Not even your brother Lord Tyrion's reinforcements could withstand the onslaught of Northmen your grace." Varys noticed how Cersei's eyes hardened at the mention of her dwarf brother.

"I have to ask, what reinforcements did Lord Tyrion bring?" Varys asked before Cersei could say anything. "The last we heard was that Lord Tyrion was a prisoner of Lady Stark before somehow gaining a champion to stand for him in a trial by combat, and after that we've heard nothing." The messenger straightened himself up before he spoke.

"Lord Tyrion brought with him a few hundred Clansmen of the Vale," he answered. "But they were no match for the Northmen. I saw with my own eyes the Greatjon Umber bring down one of the Clansmen chiefs, and that man was a beast of a man who could wield two battle axes as if they were only hand axes. Everywhere you looked the men of the North were cutting down our own men, showing little to no mercy. Ser Gregor Clegane was wounded by dozens of bolts and arrows before being killed by a knight of House Manderly, and I saw Ser Amory Lorch being bested by a woman of Bear Island." Varys was further pleased at this news; he has always hated Clegane and Lorch for what they did during Robert's Rebellion, specifically the murders of Princess Elia and her children Rhaenys and Aegon Targaryen. Robb Stark seems to have done rather well for his first battle.

"How could this have happened?" Cersei muttered to herself, her voice full of panic which would have made Varys smile any other time.

"Well, what else happened?" Joffrey demanded, finally adding his voice to the room.

"It was all so quick your grace," the messenger continued. "Stark had us decimated. It was a well planned ambush. He led the attack himself, leading his warriors into the fray with his accursed direwolf beside him. That foul beast tore open dozens of throats and felled many horses. Our men fled as soon as Ser Kevan fell." Cersei gasped at those words, looking up sharply at the man.

"W... what?" she mumbled. "My uncle?" The messenger seemed to tremble then, and Varys could not blame him.

"I am sorry my queen. Ser Kevan fought bravely, and his death was mercifully quick. He fought the Young Wolf personally, but he could not best the man. Your cousins Willem and Martyn were among those taken prisoner." Varys watched Cersei as she slumped in her chair. The news of her beloved uncle's death had clearly hit her hard. Before anyone could say another word Joffrey stood up, his face contorted into an angry sneer.

"Send for Ser Ilyn," he commanded. "I want Eddard Stark's head on a spike at once. And make Sansa watch so she knows what happens to those who challenge me." Varys looks at the youth, taken aback by the sudden command. Sansa had asked for mercy for her father, asking for him to be sent to the Wall, but this would only make things worse. Varys has for many years wanted to see Westeros destabilised to make things easier for the rightful King to return to his throne, but of all of his plans the death of Eddard Stark does not play into them. He would rather see him back in the North where he belongs with his family. Knowing what to do, Varys speaks up before anyone can move to follow Joffrey's command.

"Your grace if I may," he began, and waited to see if Joffrey would interrupt him or not. "Eddard Stark is a traitor who deserves to be punished for his treason. I think we are all in agreement here. But, to execute him now would be very dangerous."

"Why?" the youth spat. "His son has taken my grandfather prisoner..."

"Exactly your grace," Varys cut in before Joffrey could continue. "He has taken Lord Tywin prisoner, along with your uncle Lord Tyrion, and your mother Queen Cersei's cousins Willem and Martyn. He has personally slain Ser Kevan Lannister, your great-uncle who was known to be a superb swordsman even in his later years. He has captured many lords and knights from the Westerlands, and his men have killed a few notable individuals such as the Mountain that Rides, Ser Gregor Clegane. To kill Robb Stark's father now would be beyond foolish my king." Joffrey looked insulted by Varys's words and seemed to be ready to shout at him when Cersei finally regained the use of her tongue.

"Lord Varys is right Joffrey," she said, her voice full of despair. "If we do anything to Lord Stark or his daughter then Robb Stark will do worse to my father, your grandfather. We need to gather our allies and command them to gather here. As long as we hold Eddard Stark alive Robb Stark cannot march on us for fear of us executing his father." Varys was relieved that Cersei spoke sense into her son. The youth paced around the room for a minute before finally sighing.

"Very well," he said rather petulantly. "I'll keep Stark alive, for now. In the mean time we should command the kingdoms to rally to us. Send word to my Uncle Stannis to bring the Royal Fleet back here and to get Uncle Renly back in line. And call upon the Vale, tell Lady Lysa to send the Knights of the Vale to engage the Northmen and keep them stalled."

After Joffrey gave his orders and dismissed the council Varys made his way to his own chambers. Once there he began to put a new plan into place. He knew that all he had managed to do was buy Lord Eddard a few more days of life, but no one could tell when Joffrey would demand his head again. It took four days to plan, during which Varys had learned many things including that the Northmen had set up a garrison at Harrenhal and were just sitting there for the time being. After another two days Varys set his plan into motion. Knowing full well the price should he fail Varys made sure that his escape plan was set up and ready, as well as the secondary plan of escape. Just before he set off one of his little birds, as he calls his agents, came to him and told him that they had found the youngest Stark girl.

It was night time, and the streets of King's Landing were nearly deserted. Varys moved along the road he was walking on as quickly as he could, his features hidden under the robes he wore whenever he was beyond the Red Keep. He was wandering the Street of Steel where he turned a corner and came face to face with the youngest daughter of Lord Eddard.

"Hello my lady," he said softly as she drew a thin bladed sword that looked very similar to what the bravos of Braavos use. She blinked rapidly at him, the tip of the sword pointing at his throat.

"Who are you?" the child demanded. Varys sighed as he lowered himself down onto his knees.

"I am Varys my lady," he said. "I am planning to help your father to escape from captivity. I thought that you might want to leave this city with him." Arya Stark looked back at him, her eyes narrow as if she was trying to tell if he was lying or not. Of the two daughters of Lord Eddard, only Arya had the classic Stark look; dark brown hair, a long face, and grey eyes. Her older sister Sansa has their mother's Tully features of auburn hair and blue eyes.

"How do I know that this isn't a trick?" she asked, her voice trembling. Varys sighed as he looked at her.

"Believe me child, I have no need to try and trick you," he spoke. "All I want to see is you and your family return to the North. You must be hungry after being on the streets for the last few weeks?" he asked as he handed over a roll of bread that had been baked that morning. Arya took the bread from his hands and tore a big bite from it. She chewed the bread gratefully, and Varys gave her a smile and a quick wink of his eye. "I still have some things to do, including getting your sister Sansa out of the Red Keep, but I have some men doing that just now. In the mean time I would like you to go with my friend here," he said as he gestured to the man who appeared behind him. "He will escort you to the ship that will take you and your father and sister away from the city." Arya looked between him and the man wearily, her hand tightening around the grip of her sword, before she nodded.

As Arya left with Varys's agent taking her to the ship that will leave King's Landing, Varys returned to the Red Keep. His first stop was at the rooms of Ser Ilyn Payne, the King's Justice. When he entered though he met two of his older birds; a young woman of nineteen who was quite pretty, and a scarred man who has fought Ironborn during the Greyjoy Rebellion as well as other assorted scum over the years. The woman served as a distraction for Ser Ilyn, using her rather lovely body to draw the older man's attention while the scarred man snuck behind him and slit his throat. Varys looked at the woman, who was wiping blood off of her face.

"Tis done milord," the woman said gesturing to Ser Ilyn's lifeless body. "We have the sword as well." Varys looked to the scarred man who held the greatsword; a two-handed weapon whose blade was forged from Valyrian steel, a metal that was spell-forged in Old Valyria before the Doom, and is lighter than regular steel and never looses its edge. Any other weapon needs a whetstone to keep it sharp, but Valyrian steel will slice a whetstone in half as well as take the fingers off the man holding the whetstone.

"Very good my friends," Varys said. "Now we must go. Elyn, go to the room where the Lady Sansa is being held, our mutual friend should be done with her guards and be talking to her now. Duncan, do follow me to the Black Cells. We will get Lord Eddard out of there where you will give him back his sword and help us get back to the ship." The sellsword looked mournful at the idea of giving up the sword but none the less he nodded in agreement. The three of them left the room, Varys closing the door behind him and locking it to ensure that no one found Ser Ilyn's body sooner than needed. Elyn wandered off to go to Sansa's room, while Duncan followed him into the Black Cells. Upon entering the dank darkened corridors that led there Varys grabbed a lit torch from the wall and held it before him as he walked. Once at the door to Lord Eddard's cell Varys entered and made his way to the wounded former Hand of the King.

"What do you want now Varys?" he asked after looking up at him. Eddard Stark looked worse than when Varys last spoke with him ten days ago. His long brown hair was filthy and looked uncomfortable while his beard was longer and no longer neat. His grey eyes seemed devoid of all life already, as if he were expecting his end at any moment.

"Things have changed my friend," Varys said softly. Eddard gave a little noise at Varys's words, something like a 'hmm' sound.

"So I am to be taken from here to stand before Joffrey and confess my crimes?" he asked bitterly.

"Far from it," Varys said, and he smiled when Eddard looked up at him in confusion. "Your son, Robb, has done the impossible my lord. Robb Stark and his host of twenty-thousand men have not just defeated and captured Lord Tywin, but also annihilated his own host. Many have died, including the Mountain, who I think you'll agree has been long overdue his punishment for his dreadful actions fifteen years ago, and Lord Tywin's brother Ser Kevan Lannister whom Robb had killed himself. It was Ser Kevan's death that broke the Westermen and sent them fleeing, but none escaped from what we know. Robb allowed a messenger to come here to spread word of his victory at what people are already calling the Humbling of the Lion. We have been informed that as well as taking Lord Tywin prisoner Robb has also taken his son Lord Tyrion, who I must say is probably getting a bit bored of being taken prisoner by Starks." This managed to get Eddard to chuckle a lit bit. "He has also taken Ser Kevan's twin sons, Willem and Martyn, Ser Kevan's good-father Ser Harys Swyft, and Ser Amory Lorch who it is said was bested by a woman, which I must say I find curious." Eddard's lips curled up slightly at that.

"That must have been Maege Mormont or her daughter Dacey," Eddard said. "Maege fought with me during Robert's Rebellion and the Greyjoy Rebellion, while Dacey was too young on both occasions. She must be old enough by now, and as Maege's heir I doubt that she would stay away from the fight when there is one to be had." Varys smiled at that.

"Ah yes, the warrior women of Bear Island. Such a brave people, considering all of their past plights. You are fond of them, despite the actions of Jorah Mormont?" he asked. At the mention of the exiled lord Eddard's face hardened.

"Jorah Mormont betrayed the laws of the First Men," he growled. "He sold poachers he caught on his lands into slavery. No man, no matter what he has done in his life, deserves such a fate. But instead of admitting his crimes and facing his fate he chose to run like a craven." Varys sensed a keen hatred towards this man who has kept him aware of the actions of the last two children of old Mad Aerys; Viserys and Daenerys, the former who has died after threatening his sister in front of her husband, and the latter who had survived the attempt on her life before Varys's man could get to her. Eddard shook his head. "Forgive me Varys, but I prefer not to talk of lords who break the laws that they should uphold and then flee when justice comes for them." He took a deep breath then before sitting up straighter. "So then, as my son has captured Tywin Lannister I suppose that means that I'll be free in a few more weeks then?" Varys sat down beside Eddard then, a wide genuine smile across his face. It amused him that Eddard was disturbed by this.

"Actually Lord Eddard, I am doing the sensible thing for the present time and freeing you now," he told him. Eddard blinked at those words, as if he did not trust his own ears then.

"You are?" he asked, to which Varys nodded his head. "Why now? Why are you doing this now instead of when I had asked you however long ago that was before?" Varys sighed before he answered.

"Because freeing you at any other time puts you at risk of being killed my lord," he told him honestly. "News of your son's victory arrived nearly a week ago now, and after the news had sunk in Joffrey demanded your head. I was able to convince him to spare you, and Cersei to her credit talked further sense into her son. It was then that I realised that you were not going to live to see home if Joffrey were to get his way. I confess my lord that had I known Joffrey's true intent earlier then I would have acted sooner in getting you out of the city to allow you to go back to Winterfell. As it happens though, my little birds have found your youngest daughter Arya. One of my men has taken her to a ship, where I will bring both you and your elder daughter Sansa to once we are done here." Varys stood up and then removed a key from his robes. "This is the only way to achieve peace my lord," Varys said as he slid the key into the shackles that bound Eddard in place. With his wrists and ankles free Eddard stood up and stretched his limbs, hissing in pain as he did, no doubt forgetting the wound on his leg from when Ser Jamie accosted him some months ago.

"In that case Lord Varys, we should leave now," Eddard said. "I have no wish to go and meet the same fate my father and brother met here years ago." Varys nodded his head in agreement.

"Quite right my lord," he said as he led Eddard out of the cell. "Oh, and by the way, Duncan here has managed to retrieve your sword, Ice." Duncan stepped forward then and held the greatsword out to Eddard.

"You have my thanks ser," Eddard said as he took Ice from him.

"You're welcome milord, but I am no knight, just a sellsword with an influential friend at court," Duncan said. Eddard winced as he secured Ice across his back, the wolf-pelt scabbard hanging from his shoulder.

"Either way, I am glad that I will not be leaving this in Lannister hands," he responded, hissing again due to his leg.

"There is a healer onboard the ship," Varys said. "He shall look at your leg and do what he can. I am certain that Pycelle has not done even half of his best in treating your leg, but then again he is a lackey of Tywin Lannister, and more than likely does as Cersei tells him to."

It took a couple of hours to leave the Red Keep with Eddard in his condition, but once they were outside Varys led them to a stable where some others had already gathered. Varys's agents were all assembled along with Elyn, who was standing next to Sansa. Eddard's eldest daughter had tears running down her face, and her hair was quite wild having not been brushed back before being brought down to the stables. Upon seeing her father Sansa ran to him and threw her arms around him, apologising profusely for going to Cersei and telling her of his plans to send her and her sister away. Eddard just held her and hushed her, telling her that things would be alright. After a few moments the group all mounted their horses and rode off towards the docks. It took an hour to reach the docks but once they did they all boarded the ship. Varys boarded after Eddard and Sansa had got on, and as he walked up the gangplank he saw Arya rush over to her father and wrap her arms around him. The ship began to sail not long after that, leaving the capitol behind them. They had gotten maybe five miles away before Varys could hear the ringing of bells back in King's Landing.

The group went below deck and got some much needed sleep, with Varys sleeping in a simple cot while Eddard and his daughters slept in the captain's cabin. When he woke up the following morning Varys made his way up to the top deck and looked out to the mainland from the ship's port side. He stood there for a short time before approaching the captain and talking with him. Once he was done talking Varys went below deck again and walked to where Eddard was sat with his daughters breaking their fast. Varys joined them as the food was served up. They ate quietly until their plates were almost empty, when Arya looked up and spoke.

"Has Robb marched south with an army father?" she asked, her voice full of curiosity. Eddard nodded his head.

"Lord Varys told me last night that Robb has already fought and defeated Tywin Lannister," he told her. "He also told me that Joffrey had initially ordered for my execution in response to his grandfather's defeat." Sansa and Arya both looked at their father in shock.

"But, I don't understand," Sansa said. "He promised to show you mercy after I spoke to him in the throne room. Why would he go back on his word?"

"Because he's a liar Sansa," Arya snapped at her elder sister. "That's all he does, why can't you..."

"ENOUGH!" Eddard shouted, making both girls jump. Arya looked shocked at hearing her father speak like that while Sansa looked on the verge of tears. When he spoke again his voice was stern. "My leg is still in agony from being wounded all those weeks ago, I'm worried about your mother and how she is handling all of this, and I am concerned for Robb and how he is managing this whole situation. I do not need you two at each others throats, not today of all days." Varys watched as Eddard's daughters stared at their father, both shocked at his words. After a moment Sansa stepped up from her seat and fled the room in floods of tears.

"Sansa," Arya called out to her before following her. "Sansa wait, I'm sorry." As Arya left Varys heard Eddard sigh.

"War truly is easier than daughters," he mumbled after a minute of silence.

"They are still adjusting to what is happening to them my lord," Varys said. They sat quietly for a couple of minutes or so before he spoke again. "I had spoken with the captain not long before I joined you for breakfast. He says that we are nearing our destination quickly." Eddard looked up at him then.

"And where is it that we are going to?" he asked. Varys put his cutlery down onto the plate and pushed the plate away slightly.

"This ship is sailing for the mouth of the Trident river," he said. Eddard's eyes raised at Varys's words. "Once there we shall dock and meet up with some other friends of mine, after which we will ride for Harrenhal where Robb has left a large portion of his host. If my sources are correct then Robb has taken a few thousand men and is riding for Riverrun, where he no doubt intends to lift the siege and defeat Ser Jamie. With the Kingslayer as a prisoner Cersei will have no choice but to listen to you if she wants her beloved brother released unharmed." Eddard snorted at that.

"That woman will never give up the throne," Eddard said as he lifted his cup of water up to his mouth to drink. He took a long drink before setting the cup down. "Stannis will have a hard time getting Renly to follow him."

"Indeed he will my lord," Varys said. "However, it would be most wise if neither of the Baratheon brothers were to sit the Iron Throne." Eddard looked up at Varys then, his eyes hard.

"Stannis is Robert's lawful heir," he spoke. "Renly is next in line until Stannis's wife gives him a son. The laws of succession are very clear in this matter." Varys held his hand up in peace.

"Very true Lord Eddard, but ultimately irrelevant," Varys responded. "My little birds on Dragonstone have reported that Lord Stannis has taken a Shadowbinder into his service. A red priestess by the name of Mellisandre, a servant of the Lord of Light, R'hllor. Much like old Thoros of Myr, but a hundred times more pious and just as fanatical. She has burned many 'heretics' in R'hllor's name on Dragonstone, and word has it that she has converted Lord Stannis to her religion, and intends to make all of Westeros cast aside the Seven and the old gods, or burn." Varys let his words hang in the air for a moment, taking a sip of water before he continued. "And Lord Renly has also declared himself as King down in Highgarden where he has married Lord Mace Tyrell's daughter Lady Margaery, something that Lord Mace has wanted for a long time or so I have heard. Both brothers will come to blows soon enough. If Renly should take the Iron Throne then he will become a worse king than Robert ever was, and the debts will worsen. If Stannis on the other hand were to take the throne then there will be a war of faith, one much worse than when the Andals first came to Westeros for there will be three religions fighting each other, four if you count the Ironborns Drowned God." Varys watched as Eddard thought about his words clearly before sinking his head into his hands.

"Stannis's new religion will clash with the rest of us, then eventually the more pious followers of the Seven will rise up and the faith militant could more than likely be brought back, and that will lead to conflict with the North and any who hold the old gods," Eddard realised. Varys nodded his head when Eddard looked at him. The Northman sat back in his seat and drew a deep breath. "Too much," he said. "Too much bloody war. I'm sick of it Varys. I should've just stayed in Winterfell with my wife and family. I should never have taken the girls either." He looked over his shoulder to where his daughters had run off to earlier. "Sansa's direwolf would still be alive, Arya's friend would never have been run down by the Hound, she would not have had to kill that stable boy that she told me about last night. And Jon..." Eddard trailed off then, looking down at the table in front of them. "Jon would never have had to go to the Wall. He would not have taken the black." Varys heard the regret in Eddard's voice then upon speaking of Jon Snow, the boy he has claimed as his bastard son. Varys cleared his throat then.

"Actually my lord I have heard that Jon Snow is no longer at the Wall," he said.

"What?" Eddard said, his eyes wide with horror. "Please don't tell me he has deserted."

"No my lord, he has not," Varys said reassuringly. "In fact he has not taken his vows at all. From what I have heard Jon was to be made a steward instead of a ranger, and so he left in anger. He had made some friends at the Wall, including Randyll Tarly's son Samwell, whom he had been helping to adjust at the Wall. Ser Alliser Thorne, Castle Black's master-at-arms, took offence to that, and so made life hellish for him, and I do believe that he had a hand in making Jon a steward. Well anyway, as Jon was leaving he was joined by three others who had not taken their vows, including Samwell Tarly. He left for Moles Town before going back to Winterfell." Eddard sighed at that information, rubbing his forehead.

"How is it that you even have so many spies all across Westeros?" he asked. Varys smiled.

"In my profession one learns to cultivate sources beyond wherever one goes," he said. "It has allowed me to learn much over the years without having to go far. By making a contact in Pentos I can learn of matters going on within a certain branch of society in Pentos. By having several contacts in different branches of society I can learn of much more going on within Pentos, and perhaps even beyond. With the right contacts I can have information on what business is happening between a magister of Pentos and his mistresses family, and I can learn of this Pentoshi merchant's shady deals with slavers from Volantis. The same principle allows me to learn of much here in Westeros, such as which minor lord from King's Landing has a preference for boys, which knight from the Reach has a bastard from a woman he raped some years back, to which Lord Paramount of the North has been sheltering his long dead sister's son by a certain silver prince." That last sentence got a look of fear from Eddard's eyes, but the fear was gone soon, replaced with a dangerous look that made the Lord of Winterfell look very much like the beast upon House Stark's banners.

"Never, ever, bring that up," Eddard hissed quietly. "I will not allow that to be known to anyone." Varys shook his head at Eddard's stubbornness.

"Like it or not my lord, Jon Snow, or should I say Jon Targaryen, is the rightful Crown Prince," Varys spoke quietly. Eddard glared at him, anger clear in his eyes.

"Rhaegar Targaryen lured my sister with sweet words, and when she learned of his true intent she tried to leave, only to be held against her will and then raped by that cretin again and again. Jon has believed that he is my son for as long as he has been with me, why should I tell him otherwise?"

"So you believe it is alright to let the rightful king believe that he is a bastard?" Varys challenged.

"Far better than to realise that he is the result of his mother being raped," Eddard answered, his voice quiet yet furious. He struggled up from his chair and limped to the other side of the room, picking up a cane that had been left there for him to use.

"What?" a voice spoke suddenly, startling both men. Eddard looked to the doorway where his daughters had left the room from, and Varys followed his eyes. Stood in the doorway, with a look of hurt in her eyes, was Arya, with Sansa stood right behind her.

* * *

Arya

Arya rushed after Sansa as she cried. She was shocked by her father's words at them, but she did not think that Sansa would break down like that. Arya ran to her elder sister and threw her arms around her waist.

"Sansa, stop," she said.

"Let me go you stupid girl!" she snapped between tears. Arya refused to let her go, stopping her from going anywhere.

"Please Sansa, I'm sorry," she repeated.

"No you're not, you always ruin everything!" Sansa yelled at her.

"No I don't," Arya pleaded, hating how pathetic she sounded but not caring right now. "Can't you see that right now I just want my big sister?" she yelled. Sansa looked down at her, her eyes full of hate.

"You have always caused me trouble, ever since we were still young children," she said accusingly. "You have done nothing but be a pain for as long as I can remember, always being so childish, running around with Robb and Bran as if you were a boy."

"As if you haven't done those things," Arya snapped back. "I remember when we used to run in the godswood together, throwing snowballs at each other and rolling in the mud." Sansa looked at her then as if she were mad. "I remember climbing up a tree after Bran and how I fell and hurt my leg. Do you remember that? Bran came down quickly, crying thinking that he was in trouble, while you..."

"I held you," Sansa interrupted, her voice shaky and her eyes softer. "I hugged you and held you as you cried. It was the first time you ever cried over something like that. Bran came over and hugged you saying he was sorry over and over again. That was... that must have been about three or four years ago." Arya nodded her head then, tears now running down her face at the memory of the times before Sansa started to behave like a proper lady like their mother always wanted them to be. As the tears run down her cheeks Sansa wrapped her arms around Arya and pulled her into her then. "I am so sorry Arya," she said. "I'm sorry for not standing by you after what happened at the river, when Joffrey threatened you and Nymeria protected you. I'm sorry about Mycah, and for not caring. If I had told the truth then maybe he would still be alive. Maybe Lady would still be alive. Maybe..." Sansa trailed off then and both sisters then cried together for the first time in years.

For the last few weeks Arya has had trouble with sleeping, and not just from the fear of being caught by Lannister men. She has been afraid of what was happening to her father and Sansa. Ever since she ran from the training room where Syrio was teaching her the Braavosi Water Dance style of sword fighting she has been worried for Sansa, and that had led to her remembering the times when she and Sansa would play together, chasing after each other and throwing snowballs and mud at one another and being scolded by their mother for it. Sansa used to love rolling about in the mud, until she decided one day to sit with Septa Mordane and listen to her lessons on needle work and dancing and other ladylike activities. Since then Arya felt that she had lost a playmate, so she moved on to playing with her brothers.

Running from the training room as Syrio held off Ser Meryn Trant of Joffrey's Kingsguard had been the most frightening time of her life, but nothing had prepared her for what she had to do after she got away. Remembering how Syrio said that fear cuts deeper than swords she ran to the stables, stepping around the dead bodies that had littered the ground, until she got to a horse. A stable boy appeared and she asked him for help, but he decided to take her to the Queen. Arya had forgotten all of Syrio's training then, and froze with fear until she remembered something Jon had told her; " _Stick 'em with the pointy end_ ," he had said. So Arya did just that, and thrust Needle into the stable boy's chest. The boy died a moment after she drew Needle out, and then she had run away.

As she stood there in her sister's arms she told her of what had happened to her, and what she had done. Sansa was shocked, but she quickly recovered and rubbed her hand up and down her arm.

"It'll be alright Arya," she said. "I'm sure it will be."

"But how can it Sansa?" Arya said. "I've... I have killed someone. A boy our age. I murdered him just to stay alive." It was the first time Arya had given it any real thought. The boy's face would float in front of her whenever she did get any sleep, and she would usually wake up sweating and scared. _Yes_ , she thought to herself, _I murdered that boy. He had his whole life ahead of him and I just snuffed it out_.

"Father will help," Sansa suggested. "He has had to... to kill people before." She nodded her head as she wiped a stray tear from her face. "And we both need to apologise to him anyway." Arya snorted a laugh at that.

"We'll have to face him anyway, so yeah, let's go and see him," Arya agreed.

As the sisters walked back to where they had originally run from they heard their father speaking with Lord Varys. Arya could not make out what they were saying to start with, but the closer they got the more she heard.

"Rhaegar Targaryen lured my sister with sweet words, and when she learned of his true intent she tried to leave, only to be held against her will and then raped by that cretin again and again. Jon has believed that he is my son for as long as he has been with me, why should I tell him otherwise?" she heard her father say as she approached the doorway. Arya heard Sansa gasp at their father's words.

"Jon?" she said uncertainly as Lord Varys spoke. "Did I just hear right?" Arya walked quietly to the doorway with Sansa not far behind.

"Far better than to realise that he is the result of his mother being raped," she heard her father say. Although he was quiet Arya could tell that her father was angry. She stopped at the doorway and watched as father was limping over to where a cane was laying on the other side of the room.

"What?" she said, her voice drawing the attention of both men. Varys was off to her right but she was not looking at him. Instead she looked at her father, and saw the look of fear and regret in his eyes. Arya felt betrayed all of a sudden. "Jon is not my brother?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Oh Arya," Eddard began as he limped closer, but Arya stepped back.

"Jon, who I always thought of as my brother, is not my brother but in fact my cousin?" Arya said in a loud voice. "How could you? HOW COULD YOU!?" Arya felt the anger running through her then. "WHY DID YOU LIE TO US!" she shrieked.

"Arya stop," Sansa said, her voice trembling. But Arya was too angry. She turned and run, ignoring her father's voice as he called out to her.

Arya ran through the ship, dodging past the legs of the crew as she did. She ran until she was on the other side of the ship where the captain's cabin was, but instead of going in there she ran into another room and locked herself in it. She moved a table to block the door and then walked over to the bed at the other side of the room, where she threw herself onto the mattress and wept. She felt that a good portion of her life had been a lie; for a long time she thought that Jon was her bastard brother, her father's son by another woman. She had never given it much thought in the past other than to think that father was doing the right thing by raising Jon at Winterfell. But now she knew the truth, and it hurt; it hurt more than the thought that her father had been with another woman in the past. As she lay there crying Arya wondered if her mother actually knew what she had just found out today, and if she hated Jon because he was the son of her Aunt Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. The result of her aunt being raped and then dying would be enough reason to hate Jon, but father had always cared for him, only raising his voice to him whenever he misbehaved, which was not often.

As she lay there on the bed crying Arya lost all track of time. She lay there on the bed, the tears pouring down her face, leaving a damp pillow where her head was laying down upon. She must have fallen asleep or something because when she looked out of the small window that looked out to the sea the sky was darker. She thought about leaving the room but decided not to. As she sat up though there was a loud banging on the door.

"Milady, could you please open the door?" a voice called from the other side.

"GO AWAY!" Arya shouted. The banging continued.

"Please milady, your lord father is worried for you," the voice called out. "Would you please open the door?" Arya lay back down on the bed and covered her ears with her hands. The banging continued though. "Milady?"

"JUST GO THE FUCK AWAY!" she screamed loudly. After a moment Arya realised what she had just said, and she was quite shocked at herself. But the banging had ceased. Arya was left in peace for a short while until the banging returned. This time though the banging was louder.

"Arya!" the stern voice of her father yelled through the door. "Open this door at once!" Arya scrunched her eyes shut and tried to will herself to sleep, knowing that she would likely be in trouble now for cursing. "Arya!" Realising that not answering would not work Arya sat up from the bed.

"GO AWAY FATHER!" she shouted in anger. There was silence for a moment before her father spoke again.

"Please child, open the door," he called out.

"WHY SHOULD I?" she yelled. "JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! I HATE YOU, DO YOU HEAR ME? I FUCKING HATE YOU!"

"ARYA STARK!" her father's voice roared through the door. "NEVER, EVER SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT AGAIN! NOW OPEN THIS DOOR AT ONCE!" Her resolve failed her then, and Arya walked over to the door, her eyes streaming tears like a fountain. She pushed the table out of the way and then unlocked the door before she pulled it open. When the door opened her father's hand grabbed the door and then opened it all the way. Arya saw through her watery eyes that her father was stood with a stern face, Sansa stood beside him with a scandalised look and Lord Varys stood just further behind.

Arya retreated into the room, walking back to the bed and sitting on it, looking only at the floor. She still felt angry, but now she was also feeling ashamed of herself. Never in her life has she ever spoken to anyone like that, not even her father. But now she knew she was in trouble. As she was sat down her father limped into the room and sat himself down beside her.

"I am very disappointed in you Arya," he said. The tears continued to flood down her cheeks as she leant into her father's side.

"I'm sorry father," she said weakly. "Forgive me." She spluttered as she wept into her father's side. After a moment she felt her father's arm wrap across her back. Arya continued to cry as her father sent Sansa back to the captain's cabin and dismissed Lord Varys. They sat there like that for a long time until Eddard spoke again.

"I understand that you are hurting Arya," he spoke, his voice softer this time. "I know that this revelation has been a huge shock. However that is no excuse for behaving the way you did. I want you to promise me that you will never, ever talk back to me like that again." Arya looked up at her father's face then and wiped her hands over her own face. She nodded her head.

"I promise father," she choked out. "I promise to never speak like that to you again." Eddard looked down at her, his face looking stern but his eyes soft. After a moment he wrapped Arya into a fatherly embrace, and Arya let the tears flow freely, her anger disappearing as she cried.

"You are so much like her Arya," Eddard said after a few minutes had passed. Arya looked up at him then, and saw a look of pain in his eyes. "Your Aunt Lyanna. You look like her when she was your age. When I held you in my arms for the first time I noticed just how much you resembled Lyanna."

"What was she like?" Arya asked in a hoarse voice. She saw a slight smile form on her father's face then.

"Very much like you," he said. "She always chased after me and Brandon, always wanting to play with us. She always played with Benjen too, once he was old enough. She was always smiling and laughing, so full of mischief, just like you. She preferred to play with swords rather than learn how to sew. She loved riding her horse, feeling the breeze in her hair. And she wasn't too enthusiastic about the idea of marrying." Arya giggled at that. It was true that the idea of being married did not appeal to her, but Arya knew that it would happen at some point unless she ran away or something. Just then a thought crept into her mind.

"Did Aunt Lyanna ever accept the idea of marrying?" she asked. Her father looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding his head slightly.

"Eventually," he said. "But she never wanted to be married to Robert. She knew of his ways with women before she met him. Once, after I introduced them to each other when Robert and I visited Winterfell when I was still fostered at the Eyrie, as she was sat in the godswood I tried to make her see past Robert's faults. Robert loved her fiercely, and wanted nothing more than to marry her. But despite my words your aunt did not agree with me. When I tried to get her to accept Robert, and plead with her that he would change for her, she said to me, 'Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature'." Arya looked at her father then and saw a horrific pain in his eyes. Her father looked ready to cry then, or maybe it was just the water in Arya's eyes.

They sat in silence for a long time, Arya no longer weeping. As they sat Arya thought about Jon, and wondered how he would take this news. She wondered if he would react like she did, or more likely just stand there and seethe quietly. Then she wondered if her father intended to tell Jon the truth. Arya looked up at Eddard then and tugged his sleeve.

"What will you tell Jon when you next see him?" she asked. Her father looked at her for a long time before he responded.

"I don't know Arya," he said. "I honestly don't know." Arya sighed at that.

"It's not fair that Sansa and I know and he doesn't," she said. "We should go to the Wall and speak with him."

"Jon is not at the Wall Arya, not anymore," Eddard responded. Arya began to panic then, thinking that Jon had deserted which even she knew meant death.

"But why? Why would he risk his life..."

"He hasn't deserted child," Eddard cut in. "Varys told me that he had heard that he never took his oath, and so he has come south." At that Arya smiled slightly.

"Good," she said. "I never wanted him to leave and join the Night's Watch. It was stupid of him to go in the first place."

"The Night's Watch is an honourable order Arya," Eddard said. "He would've done well there if not for the scheming of a man who took a disliking to him." Arya felt angry at that.

"Who was it?" she asked quickly. "Tell me who it was so I can deal with them." Her father laughed at that.

"Honestly Arya, what can a wee girl your age do to a knight who has served at the Wall for fifteen years?" he asked her. Arya opened her mouth to respond but then she stopped herself. She wanted to say that she would kill such a person, but then the memory of her killing the stable boy came back to her. She shuddered at the thought of taking someone's life. As she sat there her father put his hand on her shoulder. "Arya? Are you okay?" he asked. After a moment she shook her head.

"No," she managed to say. "That boy's face won't leave me be. I see his face every time I close my eyes. I see him sneering at me as he reaches for me before he gasps in agony as I shove Needle into him. The look on his face as he dies..." As she talks about it Arya remembers that day in vivid detail. As she remembers the tears start up again, and soon Arya begins to cry. As she does her father pulls her into his side.

"I know how it feels," he says. "The first time is always the worst. It is never easy to take a man's life, but for some it becomes second nature. For me, it has sadly become a part of life, but that is the way of a lord of the North." Arya sniffled then as she listened to her father.

"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword," she said quietly.

"Aye," Eddard responded. "The _man_ who passes the sentence. A woman should never have to take a life if it can be helped." Arya looked up at him then.

"But the Mormont women are fighters too," she said. "Don't they have to kill?"

"Well, House Mormont are the exception to the rule," he said, giving Arya a wink. Arya laughed lightly at that. "You know, before we received word of Robert coming to Winterfell, your mother and I discussed sending you to Bear Island to foster under Lady Maege Mormont." Arya looked up to him then, her eyes wide.

"Really?" she asked.

"Well, we disagreed over it. I thought, and still think, that it will do you good to learn from a woman like her," he replied. Arya has always liked women like the Mormont women of Bear Island. In fact she likes any woman who can wield a blade and defend herself. The idea of learning under the She-Bear herself has always appealed to her.

"I think I would like that father," she said. She looked up to him and saw him smile.

"If you do go to Bear Island it will not be easy," he said to her. "Lady Maege is a stern woman, and she will teach you about the more womanly arts before she will teach you anything about combat." Arya rolled her eyes in annoyance at that.

"Sewing and singing are useless," she said, making her father chuckle.

"Why don't you ask her daughter Dacey when you meet them?" he suggested. "I'm sure she and her sisters will help you however they can. Anyway, enough of this," he said as he stood up. Arya looked up at him and saw the serious look in his eyes. "We must all sit down and talk; you, me and Sansa. There is much that I need to tell you both, particularly about Joffrey." Eddard held his hand out to her as he spoke. Knowing that her father would probably have a lot to say Arya took his hand and stood up from the bed, following her father as he walked out of the room.

* * *

Brynden 

"Wait, please!" the Lannister man-at-arms begged just before Ser Brynden Tully thrust his sword into his throat. As the lad gasped for breath, clutching at his throat as his blood pumped out, Brynden shook his head. Another dozen men of the Westerlands dead. Tywin Lannister has indeed much to answer for. Brynden looked around the wood that he and his men were in; typical forests as can be found throughout the Riverlands, just with the unpleasant infestation of Lannister lackeys. It angered him that war had come to his brother's lands yet again. But as always whenever there is war in Westeros the Riverlands always suffer for it.

Cleaning the lad's blood off his blade, Brynden walked back to his horse where his second-in-command was standing holding the reins of both of their horses. The man was a typical Northman, with a beard and a weather-worn face. He was missing his left ear, no doubt from frostbite, and had a scar on the right side of his face.

"Another bunch o' Lannister scum sent to their gods," the man, named Beren, said. "The sooner we kill the lot of 'em the better. I'm sick o' their bleating when we kick 'em down." The man spoke with a gruff voice. Brynden mounted his horse and surveyed the area around them.

"The Lannisters made the mistake of sacking my brother's lands Beren," Brynden spoke as he looked around at the men who were checking the dead Westermen. "We Tullys take care of our own, though I would love to beat sense into my nephew right now." Beren laughed at his words.

"Aye, a good clout ne'er did me any harm," he said. "Still, the boy sounds like he needs more than a wallop after trying to take the Kingslayer on. If only you had a couple of lads of yer own Blackfish, then they could keep him from doing stupid stuff like that." Brynden smiled slightly at the man's words. He thought back to before Robert's Rebellion when he still lived in Riverrun, constantly putting up with Hoster going on at him about not taking a wife and siring children, and forever arguing with him about it. It was after one argument about it that he became known as the Blackfish, and went so far as to take a black trout as his personal sigil. "Ah, anyway we should get moving," Beren said, breaking Brynden from his thoughts. "With this lot o' fools dead we can get on with hunting others that may be hanging around. We must be getting close to yer old home?"

"Another day or so until we reach Riverrun," Brynden said. "There will likely be three camps laying siege to the castle. We will need to observe them from a distance and come up with plans until Robb gets here." Beren hummed in agreement.

"He's doing quite well so far, isn't he?" he asked as they urged their horses on while the men finished off what they were doing. Brynden looked at him. "Must admit I didn't expect much from 'im, seeing as he has Southron blood in 'im." Brynden eyed the man up carefully after those words.

"Is that any way to talk of one's liege lord's son?" he asked. Beren gave a hearty laugh before patting Brynden on his shoulder.

"The last couple of ruling Stark lords have all had Northern mothers, back to the Ned's grandfather whose mother was a Blackwood, who come from the Riverlands," Beren said. "There's Southron blood in the Starks these days, but they've been careful to choose decent women to birth their sons and daughters when they marry outside of the North." Brynden frowned at Beren's words. He had heard of this piece of Stark history years ago from Eddard's long dead older brother Brandon whom Cat was meant to marry, but was surprised that a commoner like Beren knew this.

"I must say you are quite well informed Beren," he stated. Beren smirked at him.

"It is good for people to know of their ruling lords family I think," he stated. "Plus my pa served under the Ned's father, Lord Rickard, many years ago, just before me ma pushed me out o' her belly." Brynden nodded his head at that.

"He learned much I take it?" he asked, and Beren's smirk widened.

"It was at Winterfell that me ma and pa met," he answered. "Ma always taught me and my brothers what she could, with pa helping out here and there. She had served the Starks in the kitchens of Winterfell for a good few years before pa came to serve as a soldier during some conflict or another. Ma was a strong woman, built for the winters when they arrived. Just a shame that we didn't leave the mountains sooner during the last winter a few years back." Beren fell silent then and Brynden did not push the topic, guessing that that was when Beren's mother died. After a few minutes of silence Brynden looked at the Northman.

"Is it in the northern mountains where you live?" he asked. Beren looked at him and nodded, a proud smile framing his face.

"Aye Blackfish," he said. "We of the northern mountains are a hardy folk, and loyal. The Starks have ruled us for thousands of years, treating us with respect. A few Queens of the North have hailed from our mountains, taken from the more powerful of the clans, such as the Wulls and the First Flints and the Harclays, though few ever remember that. We live in the high valleys and the mountain meadows during the summers, and retreat to the various keeps and holdfasts dotted about the mountains when the winter comes, or seek refuge in the winter town outside of Winterfell. The younger ones do that anyway, while us older folk usually leave to make ourselves useful for our people. Many other older men go out hunting instead, though most are ne'er seen until spring, when they can be put to rest. Yet many others are ne'er seen again, falling prey to wolves and bears. Even the beasts need to eat during winter." Brynden felt a slight shudder at the man's attitude to life. From what he can gather the mountain folk are a straightforward people with a simple take on life and death. Growing up as a child Brynden always thought of Northmen as being serious and dour from the tales he was told, but now he wonders just how true those tales were.

As they talked they rode through the woods south of Riverrun. Brynden learned much of life in the North beyond Winterfell. He has heard much from his niece Cat when she sent letters to him during his time serving as Knight of the Gate in the Vale of Arryn, but that was always in regards to Winterfell and the immediate surrounding area. As Beren told him of life in the North so too did Brynden tell him of life in the Riverlands. Both men reminisced about their younger years, and eventually they got talking about their wartime exploits.

"So anyway," Beren started as he recalled an event at the start of the Greyjoy Rebellion, "there we were, me and several dozen other lads from the mountains, all gathered under Theo Wull, who is in charge of Clan Wull. We are sat in Winterfell just waiting for the Ned to tell us to shift our arses south o' the Neck, when Greatjon Umber looks down at me and says, 'huh, you think you can take on some Ironborn shits with that little blade of yours'." Brynden noticed that Beren's impression of the Greatjon was very uncanny. "So I take out me sword from its scabbard and show it to him and say, 'this here blade has slain more Ironborn than you've ever had, and I'd wager you've probably fucked more whores than I've killed men.' So after that Greatjon just stares at me, looking shocked at what I tell 'im, and while I'm putting on a smug grin I'm thinking to meself, 'oh shit I've really put my foot in it now'. As it turned out though the big Umber has a sense o' humour and he just couldn't stop laughing his head off." Brynden laughed at the story that Beren told him, and the two men continued with their stories until nightfall, when they set up camp for the night.

The next morning Brynden wakes up just as the sun is rising, to find Beren and five of his men stood up and waiting for the rest of the outriders to wake up. Brynden grabs a piece of hare that is being cooked on the camp fire while Beren wakes the rest of the men up. After they have all had something to eat the men mount their horses and ride to Riverrun. It takes them a couple of hours, during which they encounter a small patrol of six men who they kill quickly, dumping their bodies into the Red Fork to be swept away from Riverrun and so prevent the Lannister host from learning of their presence. Brynden and his outriders dismount their horses and move through the woods, walking quietly for half an hour until they come upon a fallen tree. Brynden drops down and crawls up to the tree, where he sees Riverrun in the distance. The old castle of House Tully sat with the Tumblestone river north of it flowing into the Red Fork that was south of it. In front of the west wall is a man-made ditch that was currently flooded to have all three sides of Riverrun bordered by water. Brynden noticed the three camps of Westermen that were laying siege to his brother's home.

"Just as you said Blackfish," Beren said quietly. "Three camps, all cut off from each other by the rivers. You Tullys picked a good place for your castle."

"Indeed," Brynden agreed. He watched as the men in the camps went about their business, while on the ramparts he saw his brother's guardsmen patrolling the walls. He also noticed from the distance a group of men who were not in the colours of House Tully, but in the colours of House Blackwood. As he watched he saw a tall older man with bright yellow armour walking among the guardsmen, with long dark hair that looked to be greying. "Ah, trust you to take charge Tytos," Brynden murmured once he realised that he was looking at the Lord of Raventree Hall, Tytos Blackwood. While he and his outriders may have been a good mile away from the edges of the southern camp, Brynden's eyes were still sharp enough to make out people from a distance.

"If I remember rightly, the Blackwoods used to live in the North thousands of years ago, until the Starks drove them from the Wolfswood," Beren said quietly. "And now they are friends with the Ned and his family, and loyal to your brother. Don't know much about Tytos Blackwood, but I've heard he's alright." Brynden nodded his head.

"He's a good man, and a fierce fighter," he said. "I'm sure he would rather be skinning the Kingslayer instead of being trapped in Riverrun." Brynden watched Tytos's movements until he walked into a tower and out of sight. Brynden then turned to look at Beren and tap him on his shoulder. "We should head back," was all he said.

The outriders made their way back to the horses, where half of them had stayed behind. Once there they gathered around a small camp fire and discussed what they all saw. Brynden listened as the men all gave their input, until he saw sudden movement to his right. He instinctively reached for his sword, the Northmen around him doing the same, as the man who drew his attention walked into view. The man was a knight that Brynden had met years ago, when said knight was still an up-jumped squire. He had a longsword secured to his belt, and wore plate armour with the sigil of House Frey upon it. The man was Ser Jammos Frey, one of the many sons of Lord Walder Frey of the Twins.

"Ser Jammos," Brynden stated. "What brings you here?"

"My lord brother's command Ser Brynden," he said. Brynden raised his brow at that.

"Lord brother?" he asked the Frey knight. Jammos looked down at the ground before shrugging his shoulders.

"My father, Lord Walder, is dead," he said. Brynden was surprised at this news, but he did not let it show. He really had no love for Walder Frey, and was glad to hear such news. "My eldest brother Stevron now rules the Twins, and as such is the Lord of the Crossing. He has sent me along with some other knights to scout the lands surrounding Riverrun. Upon recognising you I had to make our presence known to you."

"Wonderful," Brynden remarked sarcastically, which Jammos failed to notice, or if he did he did not show it. "Well then, where is Lord Stevron then?"

"I believe he is riding to meet up with your niece's son, Robb Stark," he answered. "He said he wants to treat with the pup himself."

"Watch your tongue Frey," Beren spat. "That's the Ned's son your talking about. The 'pup', as you call him, smashed the Old Lion at the Trident." Jammos seemed to be uncomfortable with Beren's stern words. "He is no pup, and you'll show 'im respect in the future."

"I don't take orders from some Northern barbarian," Jammos stated, as if he had found his backbone. Brynden stepped forward, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

"No boy," he said. "But you will take orders from me. That is my niece's son as you rightly pointed out. The grandson of your liege lord. By insulting him you insult my brother. If you insult my brother you insult me, and that my good ser, is something you do not want to do." Jammos Frey seemed to tremble then, and Brynden glowered at the man. _I wouldn't be at all surprised if he pissed himself just now_ , he thought. "Watch your words in future Ser Jammos. Now tell us what you have learned." And so the Frey knight told Brynden and his men what the Freys knew about the siege, and he also learned that the Mallisters of Seagard had marched south to lend aid, with Lord Jason and his son and heir Patrek leading the host from Seagard. After the conversation with the Frey knight Brynden tells his companions to ready their camp and wait for Robb to arrive.

He just hoped that he did not have to wait too long...

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So, there it is.

Now as you've noticed, I have gone for the old R+L=J theory (for the unenlightened that is Jon Snow's true parents being Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark). I firmly believe that if this theory is correct then it happened in one of two ways: 1, Lyanna was completely willing to go with Rhaegar and went ahead with his plans, not thinking things through carefully; or 2, Lyanna left willingly, but then realised that she made a mistake but was held prisoner and then raped by Rhaegar. Of course we do not yet know the truth on this matter, and we never will until GRRM tells us himself. For my story I'm going with the latter possibility.

I will stick with that but I would like to know what you guys think should happen here. Should I go with a Targaryen restoration with Jon as the new king, or should I go ahead with breaking the Seven Kingdoms apart? Let me know about your thoughts guys, but bare in mind that once I have made a choice in this matter, my mind WILL be set and there won't be any going back.

I hope you've enjoyed this chapter guys, number 3 will be started once I know what I'm doing. Bye for now.


	3. A Storm Lord's Honour

**Author's Note:** Warning for smut at the end of this chapter.

Enjoy guys.

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 **A Storm Lord's Honour**

* * *

Catelyn

Despite her son's wishes Catelyn rode with the host to Riverrun. Robb wanted her to stay at Harrenhal where she would be safe, but she refused. She wanted to be near when the time came to see her family. She has not seen her father Hoster Tully for many years now, and seeing her sister Lysa has made her want to be with her father once more. Of course she was frightened; she was frightened that Ser Jamie would learn of Robb's advance and retaliate by killing Edmure, her brother; she was frightened that Joffrey would have Ned killed for his grandfather's defeat; she was frightened that they would be attacked during the night by Westermen. But despite all of her fears there was nothing more frightening than the possibility that Robb might be killed in the days to come.

Before he left Harrenhal Robb had written several letters and had them sent out across the Seven Kingdoms to the various high lords throughout Westeros. After the last letter had been attached to its raven and sent Robb left Harrenhal for Riverrun. Several days after leaving Harrenhal the host met up with the men-at-arms sworn to the Houses Vance and Piper, both loyal to her father's House. Ser Marq Piper was leading his father's men while Karyl Vance was the new Lord of Wayfarer's Rest after his father was slain in battle weeks ago. Both men greeted her before holding talks with Robb, where he welcomed their support and received their praise upon their learning that he has Tywin Lannister as a prisoner, with Ser Marq imploring Robb to kill him.

"Would that I could Ser Marq, but he has more value alive than dead just now, especially as Joffrey holds my father and sisters hostage," Robb had told the hot headed knight. Catelyn could understand Ser Marq's anger though, for she had heard of the burning of Pinkmaiden Castle, the seat of the Pipers. Tywin Lannister had sent the Mountain to burn the lands of various River Lords, and Pinkmaiden was just one of them. All in retaliation of Catelyn's imprisonment of his son Tyrion.

As the days passed by other lords and knights arrived, flocking to Robb's banners, all with the promise of aid, and all honouring their oaths to Catelyn's father. Today saw the arrival of Stevron Frey, the eldest son of Walder Frey, the Lord of the Crossing. He was accompanied by a few of his kinsmen, and several knights and men-at-arms as well. Catelyn walked into the tent where the meeting with Ser Stevron was being held, and she found Robb stood with the Greatjon and Lord Karstark stood on either side of him. Standing next to Lord Karstark was Dacey Mormont, who was dressed in boiled leather and ringmail with her hair tied back in a ponytail. Standing next to the Greatjon was Lord Roose Bolton, who was quiet the whole time, and Ser Wylis Manderly, the Heir to White Harbour. All of them greeted her in their own manner; Greatjon Umber was as boisterous as ever, while Ser Wylis was respectful and kind; Lord Bolton was soft spoken with his greeting, while Dacey Mormont gave her a respectful yet unladylike greeting; and Lord Karstark gave her a kind smile and a bow of his head. Robb however gave her a small smile and a slight nod before turning to face the men standing opposite them; Stevron Frey and his men.

"My Lady Stark," Stevron said in a kind voice. "I am honoured to meet you again my lady, it has been too long since you graced us with your presence. I am terribly sorry for what has happened to your lord husband. Gods willing we shall free Lord Eddard from his false imprisonment soon."

"I thank you for your kind words Ser Stevron," Catelyn said politely. _And I wish your lord father had stirred himself sooner_ , she added in her mind.

"I thank you for arriving Ser Stevron," Robb spoke in his lord's voice, sounding much like his father in that moment. "What aid does Lord Walder intend to send?" Catelyn noticed that at the mention of his father Stevron seemed to grow uncomfortable. After a moment Stevron cleared his throat and answered.

"None my lord, for my lord father has died recently," he said. Catelyn was surprised at this news, and felt both sad and grateful; sad for Stevron for losing his father at a difficult time for the Riverlands, and grateful because it was less likely that her family would have to pay too steep a price for the Freys aid. "He died peacefully in his sleep, near as the Maester can tell." Robb bowed his head respectfully at Stevron's words.

"You have my condolences my lord," Robb spoke. Catelyn bowed her own head, while thinking how not that long ago Robb was cursing Lord Walder for not sending aid to Riverrun. " _The old ferret refuses to aid my grandfather, his liege lord, and would seek to put a hefty toll on me to cross his bridge? I think not mother, we'll find another path to use_ ," he had said to her.

"His death was long expected, though it still has hit us all hard at the Twins," Stevron said. After that everyone took a seat and then the talks began. Catelyn listened to her son and the lords gathered as they spoke, coming to agree upon tactics and the placement of the men of the Twins, with Robb suggesting that they gather within the Whispering Wood north of Riverrun to draw out Jamie Lannister while Robb attacks the camps laying siege to her childhood home. Then the talks went to the suggestion of betrothals, which Catelyn had expected.

"You expect a marriage for one of your numerous sisters into my House, my lord?" Robb asked, his voice neutral but his eyes hard. If Stevron Frey was at all intimidated by Robb's hard look he did not let it show.

"I do expect a marriage for one of my sisters my lord, you have it true," he said. "However, I will not impose upon you a marriage between yourself and one of my sisters, as my father would have no doubt done. Instead I wish to ask both you and your lady mother to assist me in joining House Frey to our liege lord's House." Stevron's words had not been expected by Catelyn. She had honestly thought that the eldest son of Lord Walder would try to tie both Houses Stark and Frey in matrimony, but instead he had sought out Catelyn's own House instead.

"You want a marriage between your House and my uncle, Ser Edmure?" Robb asked, his voice wavering slightly then. Catelyn noticed the slight smile on Stevron's face then, as if he was expecting Robb's reaction.

"Indeed my lord," he responded. "I have a sister who is your own age, if not a few months younger. Roslin is the fairest of my late lord father's daughters, and much fairer than many of you may imagine if you can believe it." Catelyn looked at her son's loyal lords who were all looking anywhere but at Lord Stevron as if they had just been caught stealing a sweet like a badly behaved child would. "I am also open to any other offerings for marriage to my sisters, nieces and so on if any are interested, but I would also like to offer some of my kin for fostering if it please you Lord Robb," Stevron said to get the talks back on topic.

"I am listening my lord," Robb replied. Catelyn leaned in closer then, eager to hear of what kin Stevron wants to be rid of. A small part of her snidely wondered if the eldest son of Lord Walder was just looking to get rid of unwanted siblings and heirs, but all the same she wanted to know what her son was going to be offered.

"My lord father left me not just with the Twins, but also with many siblings, some of whom are young enough to be my own great-great-grandchildren ," Stevron jested then, earning a couple of sniggers from Greatjon and Lord Karstark. "I would like to do right by as many of them as I can, but such a task will be near impossible. Nevertheless, I would like to see four of my younger kin fostered at Winterfell, two boys and two girls." Catelyn nearly choked at the suggestion of taking on so many wards from a single House. "If any of your fellow Northern lords are willing to take a ward or two I would both be honoured and grateful. As well as fostering I would like to see some of my brothers, nephews and so on being taken as squires by you and yours my lord." Robb took a deep breath then, perhaps to steady his nerves Catelyn thought.

"I cannot promise to convince my uncle to marry your sister Lord Stevron," Robb began, his voice lacking any emotion. "But I can see no reason to refuse to take a squire, as long as the lad will not be a hindrance to my duties."

"Have no fear there my lord," Stevron spoke then with a smile. "My brother Olyvar will be a helpful and dutiful squire to you. He is eager to please, but he knows what will be expected of him. He is only seventeen, but he will be a great help to you I am sure."

"Very well," Robb said, his voice respectful. "But I am not so sure about taking four wards to Winterfell. I can happily take two wards, a boy and a girl to learn from my lord father and lady mother respectively. Perhaps if my lords are needing squires or want wards then I am sure we can agree?" Robb turned to look at his lords then, waiting for them to respond.

"My brother could do with a squire himself," Ser Wylis spoke up then. "He has been in need of one since Bryen was killed during the battle. I'm sure he would welcome one of your kinsmen my lord." Stevron bowed his head gratefully then. The Lord of the Dreadfort was next to speak then.

"I find myself needing a new wife Lord Frey," he said in that soft, quiet voice of his. "My only trueborn son died a few months past, and I have only a baseborn son to carry on the Bolton bloodline, which I do not find to be suitable. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement?" Stevron bowed his head to the lord, and Catelyn noticed the nervous look behind his eyes then. _Good, so it is not just me that Lord Bolton makes uncomfortable then_ , she thought. Robb turned to Lord Karstark then, whose eyes widened upon realising that Robb was waiting for him to respond next.

"Well... I was hoping for a Northern match for one of my sons, but perhaps Torrhen or my Eddard could marry a Frey, if they are agreeable to the idea," he eventually said. Catelyn noticed that Lord Karstark did not offer to betroth his daughter Alys to a Frey. _With Daryn Hornwood dead, he will probably try to get Robb to agree to marry her_ , she soon realised.

"If you've any strong lads looking to learn how to swing a sword properly like a true warrior then I am willing to take a squire Lord Frey," the Greatjon spoke then, drawing Catelyn back to the conversation. Stevron looked at the Lord of Last Hearth with wide eyes, but nodded his head in thanks. All eyes then turned to Dacey Mormont, who looked at Lord Stevron with hard eyes.

"My lady mother and I are in the middle of discussing taking on a ward from House Stark, so I cannot see how we can take on more wards," she said. "If my mother wishes for another ward then I am sure she will seek you out my lord." Stevron looked at Dacey then, his eyes narrowed.

"What about taking a husband, my lady?" he asked boldly. "Given the reputation of the women of House Mormont I do believe that you ladies take husbands who are of lower standing so as to keep your House name." Catelyn looked back at Dacey and saw the cold look of anger in the young woman's eyes.

"No," she spat. "I shall take a husband who proves himself worthy of me, not some weakling Southron who is offered to me like a petty bauble." Those words shocked Catelyn, but not as much as they clearly shocked Stevron who seemed taken aback by her words. Before he could say anything though Robb spoke up.

"I do believe that we have come to a few agreements my lord," he said. "If we come across any other... opportunities to strengthen our alliance then we can discuss them at a later date." Robb's voice while respectful was quite hard, giving the clear impression that there was no more to be discussed. Lord Stevron looked at him before bowing his head slightly and rising to his feet.

"Very well Lord Robb," he said as he offered his hand to him. Robb took the hand and shook it. "I shall send Olyvar over to you by the end of this evening, once he has sorted out his own equipment." Catelyn watched her son as he observed the Lord of the Crossing, wondering what was going on in his head.

"Thank you Lord Frey," he said. "I shall see you on the morrow when we ride out again."

With the meeting over everyone left the tent to go about their own duties. Robb walked away with Lords Karstark and Bolton while the Greatjon went to find his son, Smalljon Umber. Ser Wylis decided to go and take over from Theon who had been watching over the Lannister prisoners. Dacey however walked off to join her own warriors who were on the other side of the camp. Deciding to speak with the young woman Catelyn, after having her afternoon meal, walks towards the Mormont side of the camp with her guard detail close behind. The guardsmen are led by Hallis Mollen, a guardsman who Robb named as the captain of the guard after Ned went south. Hallis is a muscular built man who Catelyn has noticed has a rather loose tongue, and has a tendency to state the obvious. After half an hour of walking Catelyn comes across Dacey training her men, all of whom were listening to her words with rapt attention. Catelyn has noticed that the Bear Islanders look at Dacey with respect and not leering looks that she has noticed some of the other men in the host give her.

"Right you lot, that'll do for now!" Dacey bellowed. "Go get some rest, and be ready to get up before sunrise." The Bear Islanders all dispersed and went off in different directions. Catelyn approached Dacey then as the men left, and was about to call out to her when the young woman turned around. "Lady Stark? How are you?" she asked, sounding surprised. Catelyn smiled at her.

"I am well Dacey," she answered, remembering Robb's words about not using Dacey's title. "I must say I am rather impressed that your men follow your orders without complaint." Dacey smirked at that.

"It took some time to get them to respect me, but after knocking a few heads together the men learned to get their shit together," she said before grimacing. "Sorry my lady. Growing up on Bear Island we do tend to forget ourselves when training with our men, and so we adopt their manner of speaking and forget our own courtesies." Catelyn smiled at her.

"No offence was taken Dacey," she told her. "I was wondering if we could talk privately?" Dacey looked at her for a moment before nodding her head in agreement and showing her to her own tent. Upon entering the tent Catelyn saw a blanket on Dacey's cot. The blanket was green in colour with a half finished black bear, missing its lower body. Dacey offered Catelyn a seat which she took while she got out a wine goblet.

"I have some Arbor gold if you would like?" she asked.

"Yes please," Catelyn said. Dacey filled the goblet and gave it to her before putting the bottle of Arbor gold away and taking out a drinking horn and a bottle of mead. "Not one for wine?" Catelyn asked. Dacey smirked as she pours her mead into her drinking horn.

"I've never liked the taste of it personally," she replied. "I've always preferred ale and mead. But I always keep a bottle handy should I find myself hosting a guest. It would be poor of me to only offer ale to a lady such as yourself when accepting you as a guest, especially when observing guest right." The two women then raised their drinks and took a sip before Dacey sat down and picked up the blanket. Catelyn found it amazing that Dacey could do such work when all she has ever seen the young Mormont woman do is train with her spiked mace.

"Is that blanket to be a gift?" Catelyn ventured. Dacey gave a soft smile as she began to thread a needle through the blanket.

"Aye," she said. "For my nephew, Beron, my sister Alysane's son. He will see his second nameday soon." Catelyn watched as Dacey threaded the needle through the blanket. "You probably thought that I wouldn't be one to do this sort of thing my lady," she said. Catelyn was about to speak out when Dacey continued. "It's alright. Truth be told I hate doing this sort of thing. But Alysane is much worse than I am when it comes to needle work, and our younger sisters are only interested in learning how to fight at the moment. Mother was about to teach them more about the womanly arts when we received the call to arms from Winterfell. So, here I am working on a blanket for my little nephew while I am stuck in the south fighting Lannister scum. Or rather, working on it when I get the time." Catelyn looked at the blanket again as Dacey continued her work on it.

"It looks quite good to me," she said. "That is the sigil of your House, is it not?" Dacey nodded her head.

"Perhaps the only pattern that I can do any justice towards," she said. "Though I must say, this is better than the blanket that I did for my niece Bera." Catelyn raised her brow.

"Bera?"

"Oh, Alysane's daughter, who's nine," Dacey replied.

"I didn't know that your younger sister was married," Catelyn asked. Dacey grimaced at that before looking up at Catelyn.

"She isn't," she said. Catelyn was shocked by this admission.

"You mean your niece and nephew are..."

"They bare the Mormont name my lady," Dacey cut in quickly. "Such is the way with the women of my House. In times when the men are dead or otherwise unable to carry on the family name the women of our House name our children as Mormont to ensure our House's survival, as has been our way ever since the Age of Heroes. Only the men sire bastards, but the women birth Mormonts." Catelyn remained silent at Dacey's words for a time while the younger woman worked on the blanket. During that time Catelyn wondered how a proud House like the Mormonts can exist without ridicule from other Houses when their daughters do not marry. After a good few minutes of silence Catelyn took a deep breath.

"Is your nephew your heir Dacey?" she asked. Dacey looked up from the blanket and stared at Catelyn before nodding her head.

"Aye my lady," she said. "Unless I birth a son of my own Beron will be my heir."

"And will you..." Catelyn started but trailed off, wondering if perhaps she had gone too far. Dacey gave her a kind smile though.

"If I should have a child it will be with a man that I marry," she said. "I may be my mother's daughter when it comes to combat and sewing, but I am a little bit old fashioned if you will when it comes to family. I know I don't look it, but I am a pretty good dancer and a decent singer, so long as we are singing tavern songs rather than the soft Southron songs of princes and knights." Catelyn smiled slightly at that.

"And what sort of man would you take for a husband if you don't mind my asking?" she asked. Dacey looked deep in thought then before looking back down at the blanket.

"Anyone who is of the North and will put aside their own name if they are of equal station," she said. "If my idiot cousin Jorah hadn't disgraced our name and taken that Hightower bitch to wife then I would consider being the lady of any castle of the North. But thanks to him selling poachers to slavers and choosing exile I will not marry someone who will expect me to set my own name aside."

"Not even Robb?" Catelyn asked then. Since the battle with Tywin Lannister's host Catelyn has had her suspicions about whether or not there was something going on between the two of them, considering how informal they are with each other.

"Robb?" Dacey asked, shocked at the suggestion. After a moment though Dacey started to giggle. "Oh my lady, you do not think that Robb has feelings for me that go beyond friendship, do you?" Catelyn looked at her with a feeling of dread, fearing that she might have insulted Dacey, but after a few more moments of giggling Dacey composed herself. "I'm sorry Lady Stark, I do not mean to be rude." Dacey took a deep breath before she continued. "Robb is about nine years younger than I am, and he is my future liege lord. As we are both the heirs of our Houses I would not dare to think about anything that would lead to either of us falling in bed together. While I admit that I had my doubts about his ability to lead to start with he has done much to persuade me that he knows what to do. I may respect and admire him, but I do not desire him. I have made it quite clear to him that I have no intention of being married to someone who is already first in line of inheritance to their father's castle unless they are prepared to give up their inheritance. And as I have said, Robb will be my liege lord one day, so I will not put him in an awkward situation. Also..." Dacey then put the needle aside and lifted the blanket up to show the half finished image of the black bear on it. "I can only sew the image of a bear, and nothing else. Not even a direwolf, which I have attempted to do once as a child." Dacey looked off to the side then, a look of disgust on her face. "I dare not show my poor attempt at a direwolf to anyone, not even your son my lady. Even you would be mortified by the shoddy work." With that both women burst out laughing after a moment.

After staying in the tent for some idle chatter Catelyn left Dacey's tent to allow her to get some sleep. She walked back to her own tent with Hallis and the other guardsmen walking beside her. She had gotten halfway through the camp when she saw Theon walking by with a young common woman who seemed to be giggling and blushing. Catelyn thought about calling out to the Greyjoy boy but then decided against it. _Why does he feel the need to bed every pretty woman he meets_? she thought to herself. She continued to walk back to her tent, shaking her head in disgust as she did. _As long as he doesn't bring back a bastard that he sires_ , she thought. Thinking that made her think of Jon, her husband's bastard son. It angered her every time she thought about it. She had tried once to accept the boy, but she just could not do it. She felt that if she knew who his mother was then it would be easier, but Ned would never tell her anything about his mother. Was he ashamed of himself for it? Was he drunk and cannot remember if he took a woman willingly or not? Was it another woman that he had loved who died bringing Jon into this world? Catelyn always wondered about it. She knew that she should not take her anger out on Jon, it was not his fault that he was born, but she just could not help how she felt.

When she finally got back to her tent Catelyn settled down on the cot and tried to sleep. As she lay there her thoughts turned to Ned. She missed him terribly, she really did. She missed his presence, the feel of his beard on her chin whenever they kissed, the warmth of his body whenever they held each other, the feeling of him inside her whenever they made love. She just missed him; and as she lay there thinking of him she drifted off to sleep. First she dreamt of their wedding during Robert's Rebellion, when she had married Ned while her sister Lysa married Jon Arryn of the Vale. She remembered dancing with him briefly after the feast, then dancing with the other lords, both his own lords bannermen and her father's. Then she remembered the bedding ceremony, and Jory accidentally tearing her wedding gown. The man who then was still a boy nearing manhood was mortified by what he did. Then she remembered laying down in her bed with Ned laying on top of her, and then the pain of the first time he took her. Their first time was quick, but then Ned had taken her again the following morning.

After dreaming of their wedding Catelyn dreamt of the day she gave birth to Arya, when she had finally birthed a child with Stark features. She remembered Arya crying loudly until she settled down. She remembered when Ned held her for the first time that his face had softened, as if his heart had been melted by his youngest daughter. The smile on his face and the tears in his eyes made her smile, and that had been the day that Catelyn had truly fallen in love with her husband.

Then the dreams turned darker; she dreamt of Bran, her sweet little Bran, falling to his death from the tower; she saw Sansa being abused by Joffrey and his mother Cersei; she saw Arya scared, in pain and weeping as men laughed at her as they crunched their knuckles and prepared to beat her and do worse; she watched as she was hanging by her wrists as Rickon, her youngest son was being torn apart by lions while Robb was being literally pulled apart, each of his limbs tied to a horse. Then Catelyn was watching as Ned's throat was slit open as her children's heads were presented to her by a sneering Tywin Lannister, before she saw Jon Snow stalking towards her, a look of hate in his eyes.

"Snow, please help me!" she called out to him, but he just snarled at her before stabbing her in her gut with a dagger.

"YOU'VE DONE THIS!" he roared as he stabbed her again. "THEY'RE ALL DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! ROBB, SANSA, ARYA, BRANDON, RICKON, MY FATHER, YOUR FATHER AND BROTHER, YOUR UNCLE, YOUR SISTER AND HER SON!" He stabbed her for every name he uttered.

"Please Jon stop, stop," she begged weakly as blood fountained down her body.

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! EVERYONE IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! ALL BECAUSE YOU COULDN'T TREAT ME AS ONE OF YOUR OWN LIKE MY FATHER DID, LIKE ARYA AND ROBB DID!" He stabbed her again, the pain was almost too real.

"Please, Jon, enough," she cried out, her voice weak. "I'm sorry." She felt her head being pulled up before feeling steel pressing against her throat.

"Well it's too late," was all Jon said before slicing Catelyn's throat wide open.

Catelyn sat up quickly, her body soaked with sweat. She rubbed her hands against her forehead and took a deep breath. _Just a dream_ , she reminded herself. _It was just a horrible dream_. As she regained her composure Catelyn looked across to the entrance to the tent to find Robb's direwolf sat there looking at her. She still has not gotten used to the presence of the beast, but she was thankful for it being with Robb.

"What are you doing here Grey Wind?" she asked the direwolf as she waved it over. The grey furred animal padded over to her and began to lick her hands before licking her face. Catelyn laughed as the beast did that. "Shouldn't you be with Robb?" she asked. The direwolf cocked its head to one side quizzically, its yellow eyes boring into her. As she looked at the beast the entrance to the tent opened to reveal Robb.

"Mother?" he said to her. Catelyn looked up at him and smiled.

"I thought Grey Wind stayed by your side all the..." she trailed off when she looked down at his leg and saw _another_ direwolf standing beside him. This wolf also had grey fur, and yellow eyes which seemed duller than the eyes of the beast in front of her just now. Catelyn looked back at the direwolf in front of her and saw that the eyes were more of a dark golden yellow. She looked back at Robb and realised that the direwolf by his legs was Grey Wind. Sansa's direwolf Lady had been killed months ago, and the direwolves of Bran and Rickon were with them at Winterfell. So that meant that this was Arya's direwolf. "Nymeria?" Catelyn said with a gasp after thinking for a moment. The direwolf gave a little yelp before bounding over to Grey Wind to try and tackle him to the ground, only for Grey Wind to tackle her instead.

"Gods, take it easy you two," Robb said while laughing. Catelyn could not help but join in with her eldest son's laughter. For the first time in months she felt a sense of joy. It felt like a part of her family had been restored even though it was only Arya's direwolf.

She watched as the two big direwolves played with each other in her tent, bounding about without a care in the world. It made Catelyn smile wide. She could almost forget about her troubles. As she watched the beasts play Robb cleared his throat.

"Mother, we need to gather for a council," he said. Catelyn looked at her son, dread quickly pooling within her.

"Is it news from the capitol?" she asked fearfully. Robb shook his head.

"No mother. We have some guests," he said.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Beric Dondarrion, the Lord of Blackhaven."

* * *

Beric

The last few weeks have been dreadful. He has seen several friends die during the months since being sent by Lord Stark to arrest the Mountain that Rides, Ser Gregor Clegane, who has been raiding the Riverlands and putting its people to the sword. One of those friends who has died was Thoros, who sacrificed himself to allow Beric to escape. Now Beric was on his way to meet the boy who had succeeded where he had failed.

Beric Dondarrion was the Lord of Blackhaven, a House of the Dornish Marches in the southern Stormlands. The Marcher Lords have always had bad blood with the Dornish for as long as they can remember, although in recent years things have changed, or so Beric likes to think. He is betrothed to Allyria Dayne, a lovely young woman from Starfall in Dorne. Her nephew Edric is Beric's squire, a blond haired lad of eleven years of age, and is the young Lord of Starfall. Beric gets on quite well with his young squire, and hopes that fact will go a long way to strengthening the bond between him and Lady Allyria when the time comes for them to marry.

Some months ago Beric and Edric had travelled from Blackhaven to King's Landing to take part in the Hand's Tourney, an event that King Robert Baratheon had organised to honour the elevation of his friend Lord Eddard Stark to the position of Hand of the King. Beric took part in the joust but had been defeated by Thoros of Myr, a Red Priest from across the Narrow Sea. He got on quite well with the foreigner, and even shared a couple of drinks with him. He stayed in the city for a time, and was there in the Throne Room when small folk from the Riverlands came pleading for help with the men raiding their lands. That was when Lord Stark had commanded him to bring the Mountain to justice.

It was at the Mummer's Ford that Beric and his group had been ambushed by Gregor Clegane's men, where Beric lost over eighty men, including Ser Raymun Darry, Ser Gladden Wylde and Lord Lothar Mallery who had joined him. That was where Thoros had died, pushing Beric out of the way of the Mountain's lance and being impaled upon it. Beric and a man of Winterfell named Alyn rallied the survivors and withdrew from the field, being pursued by Lannister and Clegane men all the way. Beric managed to shake them off, but was left with very few men afterwards. Of one-hundred-and-twenty men, only two score survived, and many died after that. Alyn had died from an arrow wound that had gotten infected, and several others died from their wounds too. Beric found himself in charge of the survivors, with young Edric faithfully serving at his side and Harwin, another man from Winterfell, helping to lead the men. Several days ago they heard a rumour that Tywin Lannister had been defeated by Robb Stark, the son and heir of the Hand, and it was Harwin who pleaded with Beric to go and see him.

Barely four days ago the group came across a bloody field that was littered with thousands of corpses, mostly in the colours of the Westerlands. Beric walked among the dead bodies to see if he could recognise anyone of importance, and was surprised to hear from the people cleaning up and dealing with the dead that one of the slain Westermen was none other than the Mountain himself. _Surely not_ , Beric had thought at the time. After crossing the river to find Robb Stark and learn from the boy himself, Beric learned that there was more to what he had heard. As well as killing the Mountain, the Northmen had captured Tywin Lannister and his youngest son Lord Tyrion, as well as the twin sons of Ser Kevan Lannister who it is said had fallen to Robb Stark's blade during the battle that the small folk called the Humbling of the Lion. Beric could not help but be impressed that a boy of fifteen could be so successful in his first battle. Now he was sat in a tent surrounded by Northern lords who eyed him with suspicion. He noticed some Rivermen too, including Karyl Vance, who was now Lord Vance, and Ser Marq Piper. Those two greeted him upon seeing him enter. Beric also noticed a young woman with a bear sigil on her armour. _Ah, one of the famous Mormont warrior women_ , he realised. He sat there with Harwin and Edric beside him, waiting for Lord Robb to arrive.

After what felt like an eternity two people entered the tent, followed by two massive beasts that looked like overgrown dogs. Both had grey fur and yellow eyes, and stood taller than most dogs.

"Gods another bloody direwolf?" Lord Umber shouted. Beric looked up with wide eyes then. "As if one was bad enough."

"Ah quit complaining Greatjon," Lord Karstark said. "Maybe this one'll take two fingers off your other hand to balance things out." The gathered lords in the tent laughed at the jape, while Lord Umber glared at Lord Karstark.

"Harwin?" Robb Stark called out in a surprised tone, drawing Beric's attention. Beric expected to see a young boy the same height as Edric beside him, but instead found himself looking at a young man with a full beard and the look of someone much older than fifteen. "I had thought you were among the dead in King's Landing?" The Northman standing beside Beric gave Robb Stark a wide smirk.

"Your lord father sent me and twenty others with Lord Beric here to try and deal with the Mountain," Harwin said. "We failed in that, but have heard that you managed to kill the cur." The young Stark gave a slight smile before his face fell serious again.

"That honour falls to Ser Wylis Manderly of White Harbour," he said. "But yes we have managed to destroy Lord Lannister's host." As he spoke Robb Stark looked at Beric. "And you are Lord Dondarrion I take it?" he asked.

"Yes my lord," Beric answered. "Lord of Blackhaven in the Dornish Marches. Lord Eddard Stark charged me to bring Clegane to justice, but I had failed him when the Mountain and his men ambushed us. We had more than a hundred men, but less than two score of us lived to tell the tale." Robb Stark gave a slight bow of his head then before gesturing to the woman stood beside him.

"This is my mother, Lady Catelyn Stark," he introduced. "She has travelled with us despite my advice to stay at Harrenhal." From the tone of his voice Beric could tell that Robb Stark did not approve of his mother being with his host, and he could not blame him; if his own mother were still alive Beric would rather she stay away from a host marching through the country to battle. Beric took Lady Stark's hand and brushed his lips against the knuckles as courtesy dictated.

"I trust the Seven have treated you well despite the circumstances my lady," he said. Lady Stark smiled slightly at him.

"I shall thank them once I am reunited with my lord husband and daughters Lord Dondarrion," she replied.

Soon after the introductions were made, which included introducing the direwolves Grey Wind and Nymeria, Beric and the others all sat down and began to talk about the war thus far. Beric and Harwin told the lords of the ambush at the Mummer's Ford, telling them of the lives lost including Thoros and Alyn. Robb seemed saddened by the news of the Winterfell man's death but quickly hid his feelings. After Beric told them his story the Northmen told him of theirs, including how Robb Stark, with help from his great-uncle Ser Brynden Tully, had planned the lure that brought about Tywin Lannister's fall. Beric was impressed with what he heard, and even more impressed that Robb praised his great-uncle for his part of the planning. _Northern lords certainly have more humility than some southern lords that I know of_ , he thought, remembering the time he sat beside Lord Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill in the Reach's side of the Dornish Marches. He spoke with the Reachman (who was the only man to deal Robert Baratheon a defeat during the Rebellion) a few years ago when they met at a feast. To this day Lord Tarly fumes over his liege lord, Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden, claiming the credit for the siege of Storm's End, which Lord Tarly had planned and put into effect himself.

Soon the talking turned to planning the next moves of the host as they all marched to Riverrun, the ancestral seat of the Tullys. Beric listened as the lords from the North and the Riverlands spoke about how to surround the three camps that would be laying siege to the castle. When Harwin asked about the Kingslayer and what was to be done with him Robb told them that they would have the Freys and the Mallisters draw the man out and trap him. Beric was nervous when he heard that; he saw Ser Jamie at the joust during the Hand's Tourney, and he defeated all of his opponents until the semi-finals where he was unhorsed by Joffrey Baratheon's sworn-shield Sandor Clegane, who had won the joust in the end. A knight like Ser Jamie would be hard to defeat, let alone capture.

"Lord Robb?" Beric began uncertainly. Everyone in the tent looked at him then. He took a deep breath and looked directly at Robb. "If you have no objections I would like to ride ahead with Lord Frey and assist in detaining the Kingslayer." Some of the lords just looked at him while others laughed slightly. Robb just looked at him, as if trying to gaze into his very soul.

"Why, if I might ask, would you want to risk your life for a cause that is not your own Lord Dondarrion?" he asked after a few quiet moments. "Your seat is in the Stormlands, far away from the conflict. The Lord of Storm's End, Renly Baratheon, has not declared his intent to take part in this conflict so you may be seen as disobeying your liege lord regardless of whether or not he summons the Storm Lords." Beric looked down at the table in front of him then and cleared his throat.

"My lord," he began as he brought his eyes to look across the table at Robb Stark. "Lord Renly is indeed my liege. But your father charged me with a lawful duty while he was the Hand of the King, which puts his authority second only to the King himself, and above that of my own liege lord. The circumstances may have changed with King Joffrey sitting the Iron Throne, but as far as I am concerned your father's orders still stand. I failed in my duty to arrest Ser Gregor Clegane, and I feel that I must atone for that failure. Men died under my command, including men you have known for years my lord. I need to redeem myself." Lord Umber pounded his fist on the table before rising to his feet.

"Are you saying that you would risk being called a traitor like we have for a man who is not your own liege, even if it means having your lands taken and given to some other Stormlander or, gods forbid, Lannister lackey wanting to lick Joffrey's arse?" he asked loudly. Beric stared at the giant man, rising to his own feet.

"Yes, Lord Umber," he answered flatly. "I would risk my life for an honourable cause. I swore vows when I was knighted, and I aim to uphold my vows to the best of my ability." The giant Northern lord stared at him for a while before, to Beric's surprise, he began to chortle.

"You've got some balls for a Southron," he said as he sat back down and continued to laugh. Beric looked back to Robb and saw the wide smile on his face. Beric could clearly see that Robb looked up to Lord Umber. The young man looked back to Beric and stood up himself.

"You believe that you need to prove that you are committed to our cause, and I respect that my lord," he said in a tone that was both respectful and hard. "I need men that I can trust to take on the Kingslayer, but I need them to take him alive. I do not know you, but if my lord father trusted you with an important task, then I can as well." His declaration caused some of the lords to look at him, some of them stunned (mainly the lords of the Riverlands). "Do you swear to bring me the Kingslayer alive?" he asked. Beric bowed his head to the man.

"Upon my honour as a knight," he began, "upon my honour as a lord, I swear by the old gods and new to bring Ser Jamie Lannister the Kingslayer to you alive and in chains my lord." Robb Stark looked at him with hard eyes, as if judging his words. After a few moments he turned to a young man who looked to be the same age as him.

"Olyvar, go and get Lord Dondarrion some food, as well as a decent bed for the night," he said to the lad.

"Will do my lord," the lad said with a bow before leaving the tent. Robb turned to look at Beric again.

"You will want to get a decent night's sleep as well as some food my lord," he said. "I shall provide you with such as I am sending you to what could very well be your death." Beric gave the young Northman a smile.

"My thanks my lord," he said. "And you'll find that we Stormlanders are a touch hard to kill." Robb laughed at that.

"They say the same of us Starks," he said in response as he turned to leave the tent. "May the gods watch over you Lord Dondarrion. "

* * *

Renly

 _What in the Seven hells am I doing_? Renly thought to himself as he sat beside Margaery at the head of the table. They were in Highgarden in the Reach, where Margaery's father Lord Mace had thrown a feast to celebrate Renly being named King and marrying Margaery. The original plan that Renly had come up with with Loras's help was to get Robert to marry Margaery and make her Queen that way. Now he was sitting beside the sister of the man he loved while trying to look happy about it. Thankfully the smiles came easily for him.

Renly had come to Highgarden after Ned Stark refused his offer, stating that the Throne should go to Stannis. The thought irked Renly; Stannis was not suited to be King, anyone with half a brain would know that. Now Ned was a prisoner of Cersei and her incest born bastard son, along with his daughters, and his eldest son was waging a war to free them. Right now though Renly was sitting down trying to look pleased with himself as various Reach lords approached the high table to give their congratulations.

"Your grace, your grace," a knight of House Fossoway said as he bowed before them. "May the Seven bless your union and grant you both a healthy and prosperous reign when you come to your throne." Renly smiled at the man, bowing his head in return. He saw the red apple on gold field that marked him as being a Fossoway of the main branch seated at Cider Hall.

"My thanks for your words Ser," Renly spoke, making sure his voice sounded grateful.

"Yes Ser Bryan, many thanks," Margaery said. Renly took her hand in his and gave her a gentle squeeze to thank her. The young woman smiled widely and looked at him briefly before looking back at the knight. "I trust your lord father is well?" Ser Bryan gave them a small smile.

"He is well despite being bed bound with his illness," he said. "Although our Maester assures us that he shall make a full recovery, thank the gods." Renly bowed his head at him then.

"Yes, may the Seven show your House favour, both on and off the battlefield," Renly said. "I trust that your House and your cousins of the green-apple branch will do the Reach and indeed the whole of the Seven Kingdoms proud during the battles to come." Renly did his best to sound confident and sincere. If the knight saw through him or not he did not show it.

"We Fossoways have had our upsets over the last few decades, but during times of conflict we always look out for each other as kin should do, wouldn't you agree your grace?" he said, looking at Renly as he said that last part. Renly smiled at the knight, while inside he was seething at him. _Was that an intentional barb at me for usurping Stannis's claim Ser_? he wanted to say. But instead he cleared his throat and looked up at him.

"Yes, you are correct Ser," he said. "I can only hope that my brother Lord Stannis will have the brains to set aside his claim without forcing me to take battle to him. He is a stern man but I am sure that he can see reason." With his piece said he stood up. "Now forgive me Ser, but my legs grow stiff from sitting down too long, and I would like to dance with my lovely wife." Ser Bryan dipped his head and stood back.

"Of course your grace," he said. "Seven blessings to you."

Renly took Margaery's hand and escorted her to the dance floor, where they both started the dancing. Soon they were joined by Margaery's parents, Lord Mace and Lady Alerie, who took to the dance floor beside them. Then Lord Mace's sister Lady Janna joined with her husband Ser Jon Fossoway of the green-apple branch; other lords and knights soon took to the floor, and then the dancing lasted for nearly an hour before Renly and Margaery sat down again. They had traded several dancing partners over the last hour before dancing with each other again. As they sat they ate some of their food that was still on the table.

"You are a splendid dancer Renly," Margaery said as she brought her fork to her mouth. Renly smiled at her as she ate her food.

"Thank you my Queen," he said teasingly. Margaery blushed brightly at his teasing. "I trust you are looking forward to seeing the Red Keep?" The young woman looked at him with a wide smile. At that moment Renly looked at her face, and was momentarily stunned; he briefly saw Loras's face looking right back at him. He shook his head quickly and regained his composure, remembering hearing of the similarities between Margaery and Loras.

"I am," she said after he looked back at her, her smile still there. "I am most looking forward to seeing the capitol once we have removed Joffrey from the Iron Throne." As she spoke Renly saw out of the corner of his eye one of his guardsmen approach the high table. Ser Garlan, one of Margaery's older brothers, holds his hand up to halt him.

"It's alright Ser Garlan," Renly called out to him as he turned fully to look at him. "Let him pass." Garlan stepped to the side and allowed the man to approach.

"My thanks your grace," he said with a bow. "I am sorry to disturb you at your wedding feast, but two letters have arrived for you." The man held out two sealed letters which Renly took from him. He inspected the first letter which had a wax seal stamped with a crowned stag within a fiery heart. _So Stannis has converted to that red woman's religion_ , he thought, images of the priestess who he met once floating to his mind and making him uncomfortable. Renly broke the seal and read the letter's contents.

 **Renly,**

 **As your elder brother I ask you to set aside this foolishness of calling yourself King. The laws of the Seven Kingdoms dictate that I am Robert's lawful heir, not you.**

 **As your King I command you to surrender your crown and bend the knee to me. For the love of the mother who birthed us into this world set aside your claim and I shall give you lordship of Storm's End, a seat on my small council, and I will name you as my heir until a son is born to me.**

 **His Grace Stannis the First of His name of the House Baratheon,**

 **Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men,**

 **Lord of the Seven Kingdoms**

Renly sighed upon reading his older brother's writing. He looked to Margaery who was looking at him with concern in her eyes.

"Stannis wanting me to bend the knee," he said irritably. It was then that he noticed Lord Mace stood in front of him, and his mother Lady Olenna was hobbling over before sitting down next to her granddaughter.

"Your brother's claim means nothing your grace," Mace said. "Let him make his threats, he'll never take up arms against you once you have gained the might of the Reach and the Stormlands at your back." Olenna huffed at her son's declaration.

"For goodness sake Mace, give the lad a chance to read the other letter," she barked at him. Mace looked at his mother, his face red with embarrassment.

"Mother, that is hardly an appropriate way to speak in front of the King," he stammered out. Looking away from the arguing mother and son Renly looked down at the other letter. The wax seal upon it was stamped with a running direwolf. _That's the Starks sigil_ , he realised. _What the hells do they want? Do they know of my offer to Ned somehow and want an explanation_? Renly broke the direwolf seal with shaking hands and rolled the letter open.

 **To Lord Renly of the House Baratheon,**

 **I write to you to deliver news that I have successfully captured Lord Tywin Lannister after luring him into a trap just east of the Green Fork of the Trident. I hold the Lord of Casterly Rock as my prisoner, as well as his second son Lord Tyrion and his nephews Willem and Martyn, the twin sons of Ser Kevan Lannister. I write this letter to other Lords Paramount of the Seven Kingdoms.**

 **I write to you to ask that you hold off any plans that you might have and ride to Riverrun with all haste to meet with me and my father's lords bannermen to discuss how best to take the capitol and bring justice down upon Joffrey for his crimes against my House. I know that he is your nephew my lord, but his actions can not go unanswered. By the old gods and new I seek to make him pay for his crimes against my father and his men.**

 **Yours sincerely,**

 **Robb Stark, Heir to Winterfell**

Renly blinked in amazement at the letter, which he read twice more to make sure that he was not misreading. After reading it for the last time he handed it to Margaery who took it and read it quietly. Her eyes lit up after a moment, and her smile got wider than Renly thought possible. She looked up to her father and handed the letter over to him.

"Lord Stark's son has captured Lord Lannister!" she exclaimed loudly. At her words the hall fell silent; lords and knights stopped conversing with each other while the musicians stopped playing their instruments, and gossiping ladies choked on their wine while servants looked around curiously to determine what was going on. Renly painted a smile on his face and stood up to look at everyone in the hall.

"I have received a letter from Lord Ned Stark's eldest son and heir, Robb Stark," he said. "He has written to tell me that he has captured Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock in battle." The hall remained silent for a moment before sounds of cheering erupted throughout the hall. Renly smiled at the scene before him, and for the first time that night his smile was genuine.

Various people spoke amongst themselves about the news from Robb Stark. Some were amazed at such a feat while others wondered how Northmen could be smart enough to know how to lure anyone into a trap. _Bloody ignorance_ , Renly thought. Even he knows that the men of the North are not the simple minded barbarians that many of the south think them to be. Robert's tales of the North and its people had always filled Renly's ears when he was a boy, and those tales have always impressed him. True some of them may have been exaggerated by Robert, as he often did exaggerate when telling his stories, but he was sure that there was quite a bit of truth here and there. As the night wore on Renly let his mind wander to Loras. His best friend and true love was not in Highgarden at the moment at his own suggestion. Loras believed that Renly would not be able to do his duty by Margaery if he were nearby. It hurt Renly to think that, but not as much as it hurt him to think that he was only using Margaery for his own selfish desires. _But truly whose desires are they_? he thought to himself.

Finally after a long time of sitting the calls for the bedding ceremony went up. Before Renly realised it the musicians started playing 'The Queen Took Off Her Sandal, the King Took Off His Crown', the song that is traditionally sung during the bedding ceremony. The ladies in attendance gathered around Renly and dragged him out of the hall to the room that he and Margaery would share tonight. He knew that the men would be lifting Margaery up and carrying her out to the same destination. He had wanted to avoid the bedding ceremony but Margaery convinced him to let it happen. As he was taken to the room where he and Margaery were expected to consummate their marriage Renly noticed that the ladies were removing his clothes.

"Are you as big as King Robert was said to be?" a lady asked, resulting in other ladies cackling. This made Renly uncomfortable. _This shouldn't be me_ , he thought. _Robert was always better at this. He was always confident with women, with talking to them and spending time with them and fucking them. Why did I agree to this? It should've been Robert that Margaery married, not me. What if I call out Loras's name when I_... Before he could finish his thoughts Renly was bundled into the room, now as naked as his nameday.

"Have fun now your graces," a lady said before closing the door, the sounds of laughter muffled by the door. Renly looked to the bed to find Margaery lying down on the bed, her naked body exposed to him. He looked at her body, letting his eyes roam over her breasts, her slender yet shapely figure, her unblemished skin. The Little Rose as they called her looked just like a rose to Renly; all small and beautiful and innocent.

Looking back at the door, Renly thought about running out of the door and fleeing from the room, but managed to stop such thoughts from happening. It would not look right if the King was seen running like a craven from his Queen on their wedding night. Sighing loudly, Renly walked to the door and pulled the lock shut, stopping anyone from entering. He then looked back at Margaery, who was smiling at him, looking anything but innocent at that moment.

"Come to bed Renly," she called out softly to him. Renly walked over to the bed, looking anywhere but at her. It did not feel right to be bedding the sister of his true love. It felt like a betrayal. As he sat himself down on the foot of the bed he felt the bed shift behind him. He looked over his shoulder quickly to see Margaery crawling over to him, her breasts swaying. He looked away, then he felt Margaery's lips kiss his neck softly before they travelled to his cheek.

"I really think..." he started as she continued to kiss him. "I think we would be better served... um, no that's not what I..." Margaery's hand came up to his cheek and pulled his head around to face her.

"Close your eyes," she said, and Renly did just that. A moment later he felt her lips on his, and it felt weird. In one respect it was good to feel how soft her lips were on his own, but at the same time he found himself feeling like he was worthless. _She's a beautiful woman who deserves a proper man, like Ned's son Robb or, or even Edmure Tully. Not some spineless shit like me_ , he thought. _Gods why did I have to fall in love with Loras if I was to marry her? This is cruel to her more than it is to me_. After a few more kisses Renly broke off, pulling his head back.

"No," he said firmly. He opened his eyes then and saw the hurt in Margaery's eyes.

"No?" she asked, her voice full of uncertainty. Renly opened his mouth to answer, but he could not say anything. What could he tell her after all? He looked away from her then, and gently pushed her away from him. "Renly?" her voice came pleadingly. "I know..." she started but did not finish. Renly frowned at that, and then after a moment he turned to look at her. He saw the look in her eyes then; a look of knowing.

"You... you _know_?" he asked. "But... how could..." He trailed off, not knowing what to say. Margaery looked at him and shuffled closer to him, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"I know that you love Loras," she said, and Renly felt his gut sink then. "I know because he told me. We've always told each other about our worries ever since we were children running around our mother and father's ankles." Renly smirked at that, as he remembered Loras telling him a similar thing a few years ago. "He told me about it all after he came back from Storm's End after his squiring was over. We spoke about it all, about how you both got close and became intimate with each other." Renly gulped then and turned to face her fully.

"Margaery," he began. "This was never supposed to happen. It was Robert that you should've married, not me. Loras and I planned to expose Cersei's secret and get Robert to notice you. I even showed a portrait of you to Ned Stark and asked if you looked like his dead sister Lyanna, whom Robert loved. But now he is dead."

"Yes," Margaery breathed, her voice breaking. "Robert is dead, and now you are fighting for the Iron Throne. I know this is unfair to you and Loras, but we have to do this tonight. We _have_ to do it." Margaery's voice hardened then, and she placed her hands on Renly's cheeks. "Please. Just close your eyes and pretend that I'm Loras if it helps. If thinking of thrusting into my brother helps then do it. Just take me, and take me now."

With her words spoken Renly gently pushed her back down onto the bed. His mind was now made up, and there would be no going back. _Forgive me Loras_. Margaery spread her legs for him and he positioned himself between her thighs. She grabbed his manhood with her hand which felt incredibly soft.

"Just think of Loras," she said softly, and he did. Renly imagined that it was Loras beneath him, not Margaery. He felt himself harden after a while, and soon Margaery guided him to her entrance. He felt his tip brush against her folds, and he felt a shudder run up his back. "Do it," she whispered. "Put your member in me and take me." And a moment later Renly felt himself entering her.

Renly pushed his manhood as far as he could into Margaery, feeling her tight around him. His head was a complete mess. It felt wrong, but at the same time it felt right. He kept his eyes shut the whole time as he pulled back slightly before thrusting forward again, making Margaery gasp. She sounded as if she were in pain, and Renly hated it. He wanted to pull out, but as he began to move he felt her legs wrap around him.

"Don't stop Renly," she said. "Please, keep going." And he did. He thrust into her again and again, going slowly. He felt her lips brushing against his shoulder then before they travelled up to his neck and then his cheek. "Oh gods," she called out then as he ploughed into her, sounding as if she were uncomfortable. Renly willed himself to carry on, to stay inside her. She began to moan then, the sound disturbing him to start with, until he realised that her moaning sounded nearly like Loras whenever he moaned when Renly took him. He pushed into her again, and Margaery's moaning sounded delightful then. He felt himself harden further.

"Oh gods," he groaned against her ear then, brushing his fingers through her soft curly brown hair as he quickened his pace. Margaery rocked her hips in time with his own thrusts, trying to match his pace. "Oh gods..." he had to stop himself there as he nearly spoke Loras's name then. Margaery's moaning continued though, so Renly just kept on going, thrusting into her very core again and again, as hard as he could. Soon he was almost deaf to her moans and only heard Loras.

As his pace intensified Renly imagined that Loras was beneath him, moaning and groaning as he pushed into him with every movement. He imagined his hair in his hands, and his breath against his neck and cheek. He thought of Loras with every thrust, every movement. He ignored the feeling of breasts squeezing into his chest; he ignored the soft hair that was rubbing against his lower belly. He just thrust into her, thinking of him. After doing that for a long time he felt himself going even faster than before.

"Oh gods Renly," she said. "Renly, Renly. Renly!" The voice got louder as he thrust faster, feeling himself nearing his end. "RENLY!" she called out as he felt her tightening around him, squeezing his manhood and making him explode inside her.

When the last of his seed left him Renly stilled, keeping himself inside her. He let his breathing return to normal, closing his eyes before he removed himself from her as gently as he could. When he was finally free of her warmth he opened his eyes and looked at her. Margaery lay there, her face flushed and a few tear streaks lining her pretty face. She looked at him with soft doe eyes, gazing into his own blue orbs. She brought a hand up to cup her face and pulled herself up to kiss him.

"It's done," she said. "It's okay." Renly closed his eyes again and shook his head. _It's not okay_ , he thought. _I'm not even sure that this was a good idea_. Renly pulled himself away from her and rolled to the side, lying down on the bed with his back to her. "Renly?" she said, her voice wavering. Renly sighed quietly as he tried to get himself comfortable. When he felt her hand touching his arm he brushed her off. "Renly, what's..."

"Please Margaery," he said harshly, looking over to face her. When he looked at her and saw the pained look in her eyes he felt disgusted with himself. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "I didn't mean it like that." Margaery looked down at the bed beneath them then, tears leaking from her eyes. Renly sat up then and put an arm over her shoulder, noticing how she stiffened at his touch. "I shouldn't have snapped like that Margaery. I'm sorry." Margaery sniffled.

"It's okay," she said, her voice breaking as she clearly tried not to cry. Renly tensed at that, feeling miserable. He pulled her into his arms then.

"Just let it out," he told her. "It's just you and me here. Let it out." Soon he heard her crying, and felt her tears running onto his shoulder. He breathed out slowly as she cried, and he rubbed his hand up and down her back.

"I... I'm sor... sorry," she stammered between tears. Renly shook his head. _You useless, stupid, gutless shit_ , he chastised himself as he held onto his wife. He lay them both back down onto the bed, feeling tears falling from his own eyes then.

"Just let it out Margaery," he told her again. "You don't have to be sorry sweetheart." He soothed her as best as he could until after quite a while later she was sleeping against his chest. She snored quietly as she lay in his arms. Renly wanted to move and leave her in peace, but he stopped himself from doing so. _You don't deserve her_ , he told himself. _She deserves much better than you_.

 _She deserves so much better_...

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So that is that. Now some people might be thinking what the hell in regards to Dacey doing sewing, but do remember that as she is a noble woman of Bear Island I find it conceivable that she can sew as well as fight. She is comfortable in mail and dress, so she should be fine with either mace and sewing needle.

I was not sure about doing Renly's segment but in the end I went for it with some inspiration from DizzyDG's fic 'Truth Breeds Lies'. That is a good fic to read if you like your AUs.

Now before I forget, in regards to chapter two about what to do with the Seven Kingdoms, I am still undecided as everyone who has reviewed so far has left very good arguments for either scenario. So I would like to ask you to send me a Private Message with what you think I should do; have Jon become the king and unify the Seven Kingdoms, OR have his true parentage kept secret and break up the Seven Kingdoms. It's one or the other, you can't decide on a different course. If you can take the time to do that then I'll be grateful for your input.

So options are:

1- name Jon king, unify Westeros  
2- keep Jon's parentage secret, breakup the kingdoms

Anyway, let me know what you guys think. No flames please.


	4. The Raven And The Lion

**Author's Note:** Right guys, battle in the Whispering Wood and outside Riverrun, so expect some blood guts and gore. Oh, and some strong language too.

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

 **The Raven And The Lion**

* * *

Robb

They had arrived south of Riverrun just after midday. Upon arriving Robb ordered his men to set up camp and wait. If they were lucky there would not be many patrols watching the south. If they were not then Robb would have to attack straight away and risk heavy casualties. He wanted the Kingslayer lured out of the camps first, then preferably he wanted for him to be captured before launching the assault on the camps. Robb had sent Torrhen Karstark and his brother Eddard along with Harwin to aid Lord Dondarrion in his task of capturing the Kingslayer, while keeping Harrion and his father Lord Rickard close. For the last few weeks Lord Karstark has been subtly trying to get Robb interested in his daughter Alys now that her betrothed was dead. Daryn Hornwood had fallen to Ser Kevan Lannister during the Humbling of the Lion, as the small folk were calling the battle where he defeated the Lannisters, and so Alys was now available as an appropriate match for Robb.

Right now Robb was crawling alongside his great-uncle Ser Brynden up to a fallen tree that was sat on a hill south of the castle, and had a good view of the camps below. Once Robb had reached the trunk of the tree he looked over and saw the camps. Fifteen-thousand men were supposed to be laying siege to Riverrun, and the three camps dotted around gave the impression of a lot more than that. Robb looked towards his grandfather's castle and shook his head.

"So many of them," he said, earning a chuckle from the Blackfish.

"Fewer than your first battle lad," he said. "So long as the Freys don't bugger up their part of the plan we should have an easy time of it." Robb nodded his head in agreement. He trusted Brynden with helping him to plan the battles. It was his careful planning that lured Tywin Lannister to his downfall, and it will be his planning that will see the Kingslayer captured as well.

"We need Lord Frey to make his move soon," Robb told Brynden. "I have no wish to face the Kingslayer in open battle just now, not when he has so many men to fight and die for him."

"You're better off not fighting him at all," Brynden responded. "I've seen the man fight, and I tell you he is not one to go toe to toe with. Best thing to do is to swamp him with men to tire him out, then send your best fighters out to bring him down." He fell silent for a moment as the two of them looked to the ramparts. "Do you think Lord Beric will be able to bring Lannister down?" Brynden asked after a moment.

"I can only hope," Robb answered as he watched a man in yellow armour walking around behind the ramparts. "Who is that man, in the yellow armour?" he asked. He heard Brynden snort in amusement then.

"Lord Tytos Blackwood," he replied. "The Lord of Raventree Hall. He is a good man Robb. Honourable, loyal, and seems to be stubborn as well. His House keeps the old gods, and they do not trust the Brackens at all. A rivalry that stretches back for thousands of years." Robb hummed in response to Brynden's words. They watched as the man wandered around looking down at the surrounding camps. After a moment he seemed to stop and look more closely at something going on in the camp just south of the castle. Robb watched as Lord Blackwood shouted at his men while pointing towards the camp. A few moments later three men stood up to Riverrun's ramparts and loosed off arrows at the camp. Robb followed the path of the arrows and saw a group of Westermen running back, with one going down as he was hit in the back while running away. Brynden chuckled quietly beside him.

"One less for us to deal with now, the bloody fools," Robb spoke as he began to crawl back slowly.

The two of them made their way back to their camp, keeping quiet as they walked. Soon they were at the edges of the camp, where a few thousand men of the North and the Riverlands gathered waiting to attack the Westermen. Robb and Brynden made their way through the camp to the command tent, where they were met by Lord Karstark, Dacey, Greatjon and a few others. As Robb sat down Olyvar offered him a goblet, which Robb took.

"Just water Olyvar, no wine or ale just now," he said as Olyvar made his way over to the pitchers. As Robb waited for everyone to take their seats he felt Grey Wind walk beside his leg before he slumped down lazily next to him, nearly forcing him off of his seat. "Really boy?" he said quietly. Grey Wind looked up at him and gave a soft whimper in response. When Robb looked up her saw Lord Bolton walk in and take his seat. Once he was seated the conversation began. "I have had a look at the camps as they are," Robb started. "The Kingslayer's host is set up into three camps. One is south of Riverrun, and closest to us, so it will be the first to fall. The other two are situated north and west of the castle. All three camps are separated by the rivers on either side of Riverrun; the Red Fork to the south and the Tumblestone to the north. Now, we shall wait as long as possible until we get word from the Whispering Wood that Jamie Lannister is ours. The signal will be three flaming arrows being loosed off above the woods tonight at midnight. If the Freys have not captured him then we shall get one arrow to let us know that he has escaped. In the event of the three flaming arrows the Freys will attack from the north and overwhelm the northern camp, otherwise we'll be attacking from only two directions instead of three."

"My lord, if I may?" Ser Wylis spoke then. "What shall we do if we do not get either signal?" Robb bowed his head and took a deep breath.

"Honestly, I don't know," he said truthfully. "That is something I would like everyone's input on. If we do not get the signal then we may well have a problem. Either the Kingslayer never showed himself or he has managed to defeat our allies in the Whispering Wood. If that happens then we may have to attack, or we withdraw to another location and fight on our terms. What do you all say to this?" The lords gathered gave their input, and as Robb expected some began to argue with each other.

The discussion went on for an hour before everyone agreed that the best course would be to launch an assault on the southern camp only while bringing one of their most valuable prisoners to the front, that way should the Kingslayer arrive to turn the tide they can at least make him hesitate in his actions. Everyone decided that using one of their prisoners would be the best way to catch the Kingslayer off guard, and so after that the discussion turned to planning their assault should the Freys manage to capture him. Robb sat up straight as he looked at the map of Riverrun and the surrounding area.

"Now then, here is what we shall do," he said when everyone fell silent. He looked at Lord Bolton first. "Lord Bolton, I want you to gather your men north of the Red Fork, about ten miles west of the camp between the two rivers. You shall wait until you hear the war horns blasting five times, then you will swarm the western camp which will be getting ready to try and aid the southern camp, and put them to the sword." Bolton nodded his head.

"Very well my lord," he said softly. "If I may, will I be getting any help from one of my fellow Northern lords?" Robb shook his head in response.

"You shall have the men-at-arms and knights under Lord Karyl Vance fighting beside you," he said. "While you focus on the camp Lord Vance and his men shall watch the Tumblestone and repel any reinforcements trying to cross from the northern camp." The Lord of the Dreadfort gave Robb a slight smile.

"Very good my lord," he spoke. Robb found the man somewhat frightening to deal with. _How have you managed to deal with him father_? he thought. Of all of his lords, Roose Bolton was the only one that he did not wholly trust; the man was too soft spoken and cunning, and he seemed to look down on Robb, although not quite as much as he did to start with. Robb turned to Theon, who was facing the map while sneaking the occasional look across at Dacey. _You've got no chance with her Theon_ , he thought with a grin.

"Theon," he called out, startling his friend. "I'll give you command of our archers again. See if you can wreak havoc on the camps as you did back near the Green Fork. Only this time don't worry about just wounding the Westermen." Theon gave him a savage smile.

"Don't you worry," he said. "Me and the rest of the archers will drop the Westermen quicker than you can draw your swords." Some of the men laughed, while others just shook their heads. Robb turned to look at Dacey then.

"Dacey, you and your warriors will lead the van this time," he said, getting an annoyed look from the Greatjon. "You will ride at the Lannister men head on and cleave a path through their camp, setting their tents alight." Dacey gave Robb a feral grin as she straightened herself in her seat.

"The Westermen won't know what hit them," she said. Robb smiled at her before looking at Greatjon.

"Greatjon," he spoke loudly, making his most ferocious and loyal lord look at him. "You will lead the attack on the southern camp's right flank," he told him. "While the Westermen will be busy reacting to Dacey's attack they won't be prepared for your assault. Hit their flank and hit them hard, and with luck we shall have the first camp overrun within half an hour." The Lord of Last Hearth grinned widely at that. "Lord Karstark, as I have sent Torrhen and Eddard with Lord Dondarrion's group I shall keep you and your men in reserve," he said as he turned to face the Lord of Karhold. Lord Rickard grunted in response.

"And here I was looking forward to turning Lannister scum into corpses my lord," he muttered, getting a few laughs from the gathered lords. Robb smiled at him.

"I need you to keep an eye on our prisoner, just in case he tries to make a run for freedom," he told him. "If all goes well then we can throw him back in his cage. If not, well we might have to be ready to kill him." Lord Rickard nodded his head.

"Very well my lord," he said. Robb looked up to Olyvar then.

"Now you can get the wine and ale," he told him.

For another hour Robb sat with his lords and listened to them as they all gave their opinion on the plan, with one or two trying to get him to change things here and there. Robb listened to the men as they spoke but ultimately nothing was changed. Some men brought in their dinner and the conversation soon turned to lighter subjects. While the lords talked Robb found himself thinking about his father and sisters, wondering if Joffrey has had them punished for his victory near the Green Fork. He wondered if they were still alive or if Joffrey has had them executed. He tried not to think of anything grim, but he could not help himself. After a while he found himself thinking about Jon, and was hoping that he was doing okay despite everything. He hoped that Jon was not planning on doing something stupid, but with Arya's situation being unclear Jon could do anything stupid, seeing as he has always been closest to her. The last thing Robb wanted was to find himself facing the possibility of having to execute Jon for desertion. Would he have it in him? Could he go so far as to commit kinslaying?

After the lords had eaten their dinner they all dispersed to their own tents. Robb sat at his seat for a short while, with Theon and Smalljon beside him. The three of them spoke for a while before Robb decided to go and see his mother. Smalljon left to go and see his father while Theon muttered about finding a woman to keep him warm. Robb left the tent with Grey Wind following him. As they walked through the camp Robb was followed by Olyvar; the young Frey has been Robb's shadow since joining him several days ago. He was a typical Frey in appearance, but not quite as weasel faced as most of his kin. He was dutiful, and did whatever Robb told him to do, be it serve drinks or clean his ringmail. He also proved himself to be a fast learner, Robb noticed, as he seemed to grasp the sigils of the North fairly quickly. _I wonder if Bran is learning more of his sigils_? he thought to himself.

After walking through the camp for a while, stopping every now and then to speak with various men-at-arms, Robb found himself right outside his mother's tent. He turned to Olyvar and dismissed him for the evening, telling him to take a couple of hours before going to his tent and making sure that his arms and armour were ready. Once Olyvar was away Robb entered his mother's tent, announcing his presence before going in. His mother looked at him as she sat on the bed, a sleeping Nymeria at her feet. The direwolf had been staying near Catelyn since walking into her tent a few days ago.

"Robb," she said as she stood up and walked over to him. They embraced each other briefly before stepping apart. "How did it go?" she asked.

"We have decided on a plan that we all agree on," he told her. "At midnight we strike if the signalling arrows are loosed off above the Whispering Wood. If we get no arrows after an hour, we will launch our assault as planned, just without an attack on the northern camp." He saw the worried look in his mother's eyes then.

"Are you sure of this Robb?" she asked him fearfully. "We hold his father and brother hostage. We can just march up to his camps and tell him to surrender. We have destroyed his father's host, we do not need to march on the camps and slaughter them all." Robb sighed. His mother was always trying to think of the best way to end the conflict without further bloodshed, but Robb knew that it would not work as planned.

"The Kingslayer will demand a trial by combat to free his kin," he said. "We both know who would win in that situation mother. I want this to end as much as you do, but we need to take him captive. Otherwise those fifteen-thousand men out there will march on someone else and sack another keep or town. Can you live with that, knowing that people died because you tried a more peaceful approach with a man who only wants to solve his problems with his sword?" Catelyn looked at him with a stern face then, but after a moment she walked back to her bed and sat down. As she sat Nymeria stirred, drawing their attention. Robb watched his mother laugh at the direwolf before she grabbed a brush and began to brush the beast's fur.

"She is not quite as troublesome as Arya usually would be," she said. "I'd have thought that being Arya's direwolf she would be more aggressive than she is just now." Robb smiled as he walked over to a seat and sat down.

"She probably recognises that you're Arya's mother," he said. "Father did say that direwolves are as smart as we are. Didn't you tell me that she cocked her head to the side when you spoke about me being who she would normally be around before realising that she was Nymeria and not Grey Wind?" Catelyn chuckled at that, nodding her head.

"I always told Arya to take better care of herself," she said after a few moments. "I always told her to look after her appearance. She always complained that she was not as pretty as Sansa, so she shouldn't have to worry about her looks. I always have to brush her hair and make sure that she has cleaned herself. Yet, while she seems unable or unwilling to keep herself clean and presentable, I always found her looking after Nymeria, keeping her clean and brushing her fur, during the short time that she was in Winterfell." Nymeria looked up at her then, her tongue hanging out of her mouth as she panted. Robb smirked as he watched his mother brush Nymeria.

"Did she get a different brush for Nymeria, or did she use her own brush?" Catelyn looked up then, her eyes wide with realisation.

"I don't know, but I wouldn't put it past her to use her own brush on Nymeria," she said.

They sat in silence for a short time as Catelyn brushed Nymeria's fur, with Robb just watching as she did that. Robb enjoyed the silence for a short time, but he found his thoughts wondering to dark places. He was thinking about what would happen if he failed, and how it would effect his family. The last thing that he wanted was for his House to end with him should he lose this conflict, and yet the way things were going, so long as Robb did not fail in his task, it would be the Lannisters whose line could end, by his hand no less. He could not help but wonder how Tywin Lannister could be feeling just now.

"How long until you need to prepare?" his mother asked him then, drawing him back to reality. Robb looked at his mother and stifled a yawn that threatened to happen then.

"Not long now I think," he answered. Catelyn let out a long breath then, before looking at him.

"Then perhaps you better go to your tent and get yourself settled then?" she suggested. "I can see that you're restless, but sitting here isn't helping you Robb."

"I know mother," he answered. "I just can't seem to stop wondering how this is all going to turn out. It's driving me mad." He rubbed his head then before stroking his fingers through his beard. He stood up and began to pace. "I keep thinking about father, and Sansa and Arya. I find myself being afraid for them all of the time, wondering what they're going through. And then I wonder, what will become of us if we should fail? If I fail? The thought is maddening mother, and I can't stop thinking about it..."

"Then go out there and do something," Catelyn interrupted then. "It's no good thinking about what ifs when you should be focused on your plans. Go and take Grey Wind for a walk, have a drink with Theon or Lord Umber's son, eat with Ser Wylis and his brother Ser Wendel, but for gods sakes stop worrying about what if we lose. That will not help any of us." Robb looked at his mother then and sighed.

"You're right," he admitted. "I'm being an idiot over this." He walked over to the tent's entrance and made to leave, looking over his shoulder before he did so. "I'll see you later mother." With that he walked out and made his way back to his own tent, determined not to think of the worst.

* * *

Torrhen

The group of men sat atop of their horses, just waiting for the Kingslayer to arrive. Torrhen was getting impatient now, struggling to keep his eyes open. He and his brother Eddard were sent with Lord Dondarrion a few days ago to join the combined forces of the Freys and the Mallisters as they prepared to lure out the Kingslayer, who Torrhen was looking forward to fighting. He can still hear his older brother Harrion chastising him for voicing such thoughts. As he sat on his horse Torrhen looked out into the clearing that Lannister would be lured into. He gripped his sword's hilt in anticipation of the fight to come.

"Nervous Torr?" his brother asked from beside him. Torrhen looked to his right and shook his head.

"Not at all," he said. A little piece of him was frightened at dying, but that fear was not as bad as the first time. He remembered charging beside Robb at the Humbling of the Lion; riding down Lannister men, hacking his sword down at them and carving them into bloody chunks. He remembered watching Robb disarm and subdue several Westermen knights, including Ser Harys Swyft. He remembered watching some jumped up little fool named Amory Lorch challenge Dacey Mormont, probably thinking that he would have an easy fight with Dacey being a woman, only to be knocked out by a single swing of her mace's haft, which struck his face. He remembered the elation that he felt when he saw the Mountain fall to Ser Wylis Manderly's lance, and the duel between Robb and Ser Kevan Lannister end with Robb killing the knight who was the Old Lion's brother. That night after the battle had ended he had drank much ale and had bedded a lovely camp follower who caught his eye. The woman was comely enough to stir his member, and Torrhen enjoyed taking the woman. All in all it was a good day that day.

Right now Torrhen yawned and stretched his arms out to try and stay awake. He was getting tired, having been awake since sunrise, and all he wanted was some ale in his belly and a pretty woman to warm his bed, but right now all he could do was stay awake. _Old gods give me strength_ , he thought. _How much longer until that golden haired shit arrives_? Almost as soon as the thought enters his head he hears a group of men on horses ride into the clearing that was to be used to trap them.

"About bloody time," the Winterfell man, Harwin, said. "Now we just have to wait until they are all in."

"Not so fast Harwin," Lord Dondarrion spoke then, making all eyes turn to him. "There will be no point to this trap if we do not see Ser Jamie down there. We do not charge until we see him." Torrhen nodded his head in agreement with the Stormlander lord. He remembers Robb being very specific about waiting until they see the Kingslayer. He looks at the lord then and clears his throat.

"What's the best way to go about taking the Kingslayer down Lord Dondarrion?" he asked. The lord opened his mouth to answer when a war horn sounded from the Frey side of the woods. Torrhen turned to see Lord Stevron's son Ser Ryman leading the charge.

"No you fucking fool!" Lord Dondarrion yelled. "Impatient idiotic cunt!" Torrhen found himself surprised at the Southron lord's stream of curses, but then he remembered what his father told him about the lords who hail from the Stormlands; " _The men of the Stormlands are a loud people Torrhen. They are hardy like us Northmen, and tend to curse a lot and fight just as much, and that's just the small folk. The lords however, they make Dothraki seem better mannered_." Torrhen watched as Lord Dondarrion drew his sword from his scabbard and pointed it towards their foe. "TO ME! TO ME!" he bellowed as he kicked his horse to gallop into the fighting.

Torrhen rode his horse hard, with Eddard beside him with his axe raised above his head. Torrhen had his hand-and-a-halfer drawn and ready, eager to bring the Westermen down. As he rode he scanned the clearing ahead of him; the Freys under Ser Ryman had crashed into the Westermen and began to hack and slash into them, while the host made to counter-attack as quickly as they could. As they approached the host from their rear Torrhen realised why Lord Dondarrion was angry; he saw no sign of the Kingslayer whatsoever. He had no time to think about it now though, as they were committed to the attack. As he got closer to the enemy a Westerlands knight looked over his shoulder and saw Torrhen charging at him. Torrhen raised his sword over his left shoulder and when he was close enough he slashed to his right, slicing the man's head clean off. For him the battle had now started.

The line of horse smashed into the rear of the Lannister host, trapping the men in a trap that they could not escape from. Torrhen saw men fall, some dead while others only fell to the ground with minor wounds or no wounds at all. From the corner of his eye he saw his brother Eddard smash his axe down into a Westerman's face, cleaving the head in two. Torrhen saw a spear being thrust at his face, so he ducked his head down and slashed his sword at the haft of the spear, breaking it. He quickly followed up with a downward diagonal slash that sliced his assailant's chest open. He readied himself for another opponent and saw a knight rush him with his longsword drawn. Torrhen parried the incoming strike away with his blade and slashed his sword up towards the knight's exposed arm, the tip slicing into the armpit, which he then thrust into. The knight cried out in pain as Torrhen twisted his blade and pulled it out; blood sprayed from the wound as the knight toppled off of his horse. Torrhen turned to find another foe to fight only to see a horseman with his sword raised above his head ready to strike down, but the man froze. Torrhen looked at the man's face to see his face contort in pain before his arms went limp. The man fell from his horse and Torrhen saw Lord Dondarrion with his bloodied sword in hand. Torrhen nodded his head in thanks before turning to continue the fight.

The battle lasted for a good hour, with Torrhen fighting many men and knights, killing many and injuring even more. He hacked, slashed, thrust, blocked, parried and dodged. A slash there, a throat opened here; a thrust here, a belly perforated there. On it went for an hour until only a handful of Westermen were left, and they did not seem willing to surrender. Torrhen came face to face with a big boar of a man; a knight with a boar sigil upon his breastplate, with a large build and a two headed war axe.

"Be ready to meet the Stranger you filthy savage!" the man yelled as he spurred his horse towards Torrhen, who raised his sword up to block the knight's strike. The man was strong, and his blow made Torrhen nearly fall off of his horse. Torrhen just managed to keep himself on his horse's back and parried another blow that would have taken his head. The knight was too strong for him to take on alone. Torrhen tried to strike out at the knight but the man swatted away his strike, laughing. "Pathetic!" the knight snapped. "When you go to your blasted tree gods, tell them Ser Lyon Crakehall sent you!" The knight lunged at him, the axe head hitting him full in the chest. Torrhen's armour absorbed the blow, but he knew that he would have an awful bruise, and judging by the pain that he felt he reckoned that a rib had just been cracked. Again Torrhen managed to stay on his horse despite the agony that he felt in his chest. The Crakehall knight swung his axe overhead and brought it down to meet Torrhen's face, but another axe blocked its path.

"Not so fast cur!" Eddard shouted as he pushed his axe forward, forcing the knight back. As he did not expect the intervention Ser Lyon toppled off of his horse, but Torrhen saw that he managed to roll away and stand back on his feet. Eddard swung his axe down at the knight, swinging for his head repeatedly, but the man was quick enough to block every blow. Torrhen urged his horse onward, and soon joined the fight, doing his best to ignore the pain in his chest. He swung his sword at the knight at the same time as Eddard swung his axe. Despite facing two incoming strikes Ser Lyon was able to take the sword strike on his shoulder armour while blocking the axe blow. As Torrhen raised his sword for another strike the knight punched his gauntleted fist into Torrhen's horse, making the mount rear up. Torrhen tried to stay on his horse, but before he knew it he was falling down. He landed hard on his back, the pain in his chest intensifying. Torrhen rolled onto his side and watched from the ground as Eddard fought the knight of Crakehall by himself. A Frey man-at-arms tried to help, only to be cut nearly in half by the knight's counter attack. Eddard hacked down with his axe, but he overextended his strike and missed the knight. Ser Lyon grabbed Eddard's arm and pulled him off of his horse.

"EDD!" Torrhen shouted as he struggled to get on his feet, grasping his sword. He got onto his feet, fighting the pain that now shot throughout his body, and watched helplessly as Ser Lyon drove his war axe into Eddard's belly, tearing clean through his ringmail. Blood frothed up from his mouth then, painting his chin and jaw red. "NOOOOOO!" Torrhen roared as he charged at the man who just killed his brother. Screaming in anger, numb to the pain in him, Torrhen began to swing his sword viciously at Ser Lyon, who only just got his axe up ready to block. Torrhen hacked and slashed mercilessly, striking fast enough to not give his foe a chance to strike back. He kept up with his attacks until the knight tried to push him back, only for Torrhen to take the blow to his body, gritting his teeth as red hot pain flared through him. Torrhen snarled a war cry and smashed his head forward; he was wearing a half helm forged from iron, and he aimed his blow for Ser Lyon's face. As he expected the Crakehall knight moved back then, creating some distance between the two of them.

"Just die already!" Ser Lyon yelled as he swung his axe one handed at Torrhen. Rather than step back Torrhen lunged forward, thrusting his sword with all of his remaining strength. He aimed the tip of his blade up under Ser Lyon's helm as he stepped into the arc of his swing. Their bodies collided, the path of Ser Lyon's axe being halted as his arm hit Torrhen's shoulder, while Torrhen thrust his hand-and-a-halfer up into the knight's jaw and out the top of his skull, the blade going through his helm.

"You first," Torrhen hissed as Ser Lyon gurgled, blood running down from his helm and along the blade of Torrhen's sword. Torrhen pulled his sword out from the knight's head and staggered back as the boar of a knight dropped dead.

Torrhen looked around him to see that the fighting was done. A few Westermen were taken prisoner while the ones who were severely wounded were finished off. Torrhen looked around him until he saw Eddard lying down on his back, coughing up blood. Torrhen rushed to his brother's side, staggering when he was halfway there; the pain in his chest was excruciating. There was no doubt that Torrhen had a broken rib, or at least a cracked rib. Torrhen did not care for that just now; he only cared for Eddard.

"Edd," he gasped out, grasping his brother's hand. Eddard looked up at him, one hand clutching his belly as blood rushed out, holding his guts in place. Torrhen felt the urge to vomit upon seeing his brother's mushed up guts. Eddard was trembling.

"T... Torr..." he managed weakly, his voice quiet. "I... I feel... feel cold... ssssoooo coollddd..." His body shook violently for a couple of seconds before going limp. Then his eyes simply stared up, open but not seeing.

"Edd?" Torrhen spoke softly. "No, Edd, no. Please." He felt tears threatening to spill then, and he tried to blink them back. His heart broke as he looked down upon his brother's lifeless body. He could not believe it. Eddard was dead. His brother, who we played with as a young boy, who joined him in his teasing of little Alys, who laughed with him when they played pranks on Harrion and their father, was dead. It did not seem real. Then he gave in to his grief.

Torrhen let the tears fall as he clutched his brother's lifeless body. He cried in grief and anger at what happened. Eddard had dreams of being a renowned warrior that folk would sing about in decades to come, but now that would never happen; he would only be remembered as another man who fell at the Whispering Wood in a bid to capture the Kingslayer. As he sat there, with tears falling from his eyes, Torrhen heard raised voices. He turned his head to look at the source, and saw that Lord Dondarrion was bellowing into the face of Ryman Frey, who stood there with a stupid look on his face. Fighting the pain in his chest Torrhen stood up, grimacing as the pain jabbed at him, as if a dagger had been thrust into him and twisted. He walked over to them wiping his face of tears as Lord Stevron, Ryman's father, walked over.

"I... I make no apologies Ser," he heard Ryman stutter. "I followed the plan..."

"First, its 'my lord', you brainless little piece of cunt shit!" Dondarrion yelled, his voice a thunderstorm of anger. "Second, if you had followed the plan then you would've waited until the war horns on _my_ side of the woods had sounded! We were not to charge until we saw the _Kingslayer_ , not some Lannister lookalike that could've been anybody!" Ryman looked indignant at Lord Dondarrion's words.

"Now hold on a minute..."

"Son!" Lord Stevron shouted as he got closer to the two men. Ryman Frey turned to look at his father, his mouth open ready to speak, only to receive a mailed fist in his mouth. For an old man Lord Stevron can pack quite a punch Torrhen realised as the man's eldest son and heir sprawled to the ground. Torrhen saw Dondarrion's eyes rise in wonder at the old Frey's work, and both saw Lord Stevron shake his hand; no doubt it hurt his hand when he punched his son. "You are a blasted disgrace boy!" he shouted. Ryman looked up at his father. "My grandsons, Edwyn and Petyr, your own sons, died needlessly because of your recklessness!" Torrhen noticed that Ryman's face fell at the mention of his sons deaths. "I will now have to tell their little girls, my own great-granddaughters, that their fathers died because of their own grandfather's stupidity! Have you no shame?" Ryman struggled to stand up, but Torrhen put his boot on the man's leg to keep him in place.

"Get off me!" he shouted at him.

"I'll let you stand when your lord father commands it," he said to him. He wanted to roar at Ryman but the pain was too much, so he would not shout just now.

"Aegon is far smarter than you are Ryman!" Lord Stevron snapped. "Why the gods cursed my second son to be a fool I will never fathom, but we all know who the real fool is among my own sons!"

"Jinglebell doesn't have even half a sodding brain!" Ryman spat, earning himself another punch, this time from another Frey. "Argh, fuck off Walton!"

"I should kill you for getting my nephews killed Ryman," the Frey named Walton spoke, "but no man is so accursed as the kinslayer." Torrhen looked at Lord Stevron who nodded his head at him, signalling to him to take his foot off of Ryman's leg. Torrhen stepped back and walked over to stand beside Dondarrion.

"So I shall do the only thing I can do," Lord Stevron said. "It pains me to do this Ryman, it really does. My father taught me the value of family, but it seems that you sought to follow your own path, as many of our kin have, at the expense of family. Your actions here tonight leave me no other option. Ryman Frey, as the Lord of the Crossing, I Stevron Frey do hear-by disinherit you." Torrhen looked at the old lord in shock. "I strip you of your knighthood, I forbid you from bearing our name, and I send you to the Wall, where you will take the black and become a sworn brother of the Night's Watch." Ryman blinked.

"B... but father, you can't..."

"You are no son of mine, I wash my hands of you," Lord Stevron spoke. It was then that Torrhen noticed two men had been standing just across from him; Lord Jason Mallister and his son Patrek, judging by the sigils they wore on their armour. "My Lord Mallister, I trust that you can assign an escort to take Ryman to Seagard?" Lord Mallister nodded his head and turned to his son.

"Patrek, take the man to some of our men who are securing prisoners," he said. "I'll take him with me when the time comes to take prisoners to secure cells. From there he'll take ship to Deepwood Motte and then be taken to the Wall." Torrhen watched as Patrek Mallister and one other man grabbed Ryman Frey and hauled him to his feet.

"Father, you can't do this," the older man said as tears flooded from his eyes. The two men dragged him away. "Father! FATHER!" Lord Stevron turned away from the scene.

"Lord Frey?" Dondarrion asked. Torrhen looked at the old man, who seemed to have aged rapidly in the last few moments.

"Seven forgive me," he said. "I have just sent mine own son to die at the Wall."

Torrhen decided to walk away from both lords then, walking back to his brother's body. He trudged back, clutching his chest as the pain flared up. He knew that he would not be able to take part in the next battle, not until his injury had healed. He staggered back to where he had left Eddard's body, and nearly fell when a pair of arms steadied him.

"Take it easy," the man said. Torrhen looked to see Walton Frey standing beside him. He let the man help him to sit on the ground. "You okay?" he asked. Torrhen shook his head.

"I think my rib is either cracked or broken," he answered. "Feels like I've taken a dagger and had it twisted." Walton smirked at that.

"Believe me, that's nothing," he replied as he sat his rear on the grass beneath. "I've taken a few knocks over the years, quite a few nasty ones too. Admittedly, I got most of them at tourneys." Torrhen smirked at him.

"You Southrons and your cursed tourneys," he mumbled as he looked back at Eddard's body. His brother seemed so peaceful, despite his lifeless eyes looking back at him. After a moment Torrhen leant over and pulled his eye lids shut.

"Friend?" Walton asked. Torrhen sighed.

"My brother," he said, his voice on the verge of breaking.

"I'm sorry," Walton responded. "It's never easy to lose kin. Especially kin you love." Torrhen looked at him, his brow raised. "My sister, Maegelle, died a few years ago in childbirth. And I have lost other kin. Now my nephews Edwyn and Petyr are dead, thanks to Ryman. I could never stand my drunken idiot brother."

"I'm surprised your father cast him out like that," Torrhen said.

"So am I," Walton said. "Grandfather always said that family was important. He may have been unpleasant to folk, but Old Walder looked after his family, regardless of who they were." Torrhen struggled to his feet and took a shaky step as one of his father's men approached with a horse.

"Milord Torrhen, me an' a couple of the others found yer horse by the edge of t' woods," he said. Torrhen took his mount's reins, thanking the man-at-arms.

"Hey pal, you okay?" he said as he checked the horse's snout, where the Crakehall knight had punched him. He saw Walton walk over to him from the corner of his eye.

"If you want I can help you with your brother's body," he said. Torrhen looked at the Frey, and after thinking about it he nodded his head. The two of them walked over to Eddard's body when a younger looking man who looked like a Frey ran over.

"Father, lord grandfather is calling for us to reorganise our men to assault the northern camp," the Frey said. Walton looked at him.

"Okay then Steffon," he said. "Have you seen your cousin Walder?"

"Which Walder?" the man asked. Torrhen heard Walton sigh then.

"Black Walder."

"Oh yes, I saw him getting some men together to loot the dead Lannister men," Steffon replied. Torrhen looked up then and saw the look of disgust in Walton's eyes.

"All right then son," he said. "Go and get yourself ready."

"Yes father," he said before he ran off. Torrhen watched the man run off.

"Steffon the Sweet we call him," Walton said. Torrhen looked quizzically at him.

"The Sweet?"

"He has a sweet sounding voice and a sweet nature, but he is nearly twenty-five," Walton answered. The two men worked on getting Eddard's body sorted out for transport, with Torrhen calling to one of his men to make sure his brother's body is not disturbed. As they worked Torrhen stepped back, the pain in his chest too much to allow him to continue working.

"Damn this pain," he said, clutching at his chest again. He leaned against his horse then, and looked at Walton. "It seems I'll be sitting this fight out," he told him. "I won't be fighting again until I have seen a Maester."

"Aye, that's probably for the best," Walton said as he walked over to a horse.

"Do me a favour Walton Frey," he called out to him as he mounted the horse. "Kill as many Lannisters for me, will you?" The Frey gave him a small smile.

"Will do," he said. "For you and you brother." He rode his horse away from Torrhen then, but before he got too far off he looked over his shoulder at him. "What House are you from anyway?" Torrhen stood up as straight as his injury would allow him to.

"Karstark of Karhold," he called out to the man.

"Then I'll send the scum to the Stranger gladly. For Karstark." And then Walton Frey turned around and rode off. Torrhen watched the man ride away before he turned to walk back to his horse, wincing with every fifth or sixth step. _Gods I need to see a Maester_ , he thought as he looked up and saw a single flaming arrow flying up into the sky.

* * *

Tytos

Tytos watched from the ramparts of his liege lord's castle as a single flaming arrow flew up over the Whispering Wood to the north. It was night time, and the arrow seemed out of place; Tytos hoped that it was an ally signalling an upcoming assault. He was fed up with being stuck in Riverrun. All he wanted to do was run his sword through Jamie Lannister, but as long as the man held his liege lord's son hostage he could not get close enough to him. Edmure Tully seemed a fool, rushing off to meet his foe without a clear plan of escape. _Eager for sodding glory that one_ , he thought as he continued with his rounds. Along the walls were men sworn to both Houses Tully and Blackwood, his own House.

Tytos had been summoned to Riverrun by Ser Edmure some weeks ago when word had reached them that Tywin Lannister was marching upon the Riverlands. The lords and knights of the Riverlands were just mustering when Jamie Lannister's host descended upon them, and fighting took place outside the walls of Riverrun. Ser Edmure rushed forwards to engage the Kingslayer in single combat, but he was captured along with many other knights while the remaining knights and lords were routed. Tytos had managed to get back inside Riverrun with his men and his two eldest sons Brynden and Lucas, who had joined him on the journey to Riverrun from Raventree Hall. And so they have been under siege ever since.

Tytos resumed his walk along the walls when Brynden came running up to him, his longbow in hand. The man who was his son and heir had his dark hair falling down to his shoulders and a neatly trimmed beard around his mouth and chin. He had a quiver of a score and ten arrows on his back, and a sheathed longsword on his belt.

"Father, the Kingslayer is shouting up to us again demanding that we lay down our arms and open the gates," he reported, his face full of annoyance. Tytos sighed loudly as he asked his son to lead him to the west wall that overlooked the site where the Kingslayer was. No doubt the Lannister heir was going to threaten to hang Edmure again if Tytos did not open the gates. As he walked with his son he leaned closer to him.

"Remember Brynden, if anything happens, loose off your arrow at the noose, not anyone else," he said.

"I will father, don't worry," Brynden answered. After a moment of walking the two of them came upon Lucas who was looking down to the western camp past the water filled moat. Down at the front, standing on a scaffold that had been hastily built, was the Kingslayer. Beside him were a few men of his father's Household guard, and with a noose around his neck was Ser Edmure. Tytos shook his head.

"Lord Blackwood!" the son of Tywin Lannister called out. "I give you this one chance to surrender Riverrun to me. Yield the castle and I shall let you and Ser Edmure live. If you do not then I will kill you once we breach the walls, after I have hanged the Tully boy here." Tytos looked over to Brynden then, who was looking back at him shaking his head.

"As always father, he's bluffing," he said.

"I'm not so sure this time," Tytos replied. There was something in the Kingslayer's voice that sounded off. He was not sure what it was, but it sounded like Jamie Lannister was unsettled, as if he was in a hurry. _Maybe he saw that arrow and thinks trouble is heading his way_ , Tytos thought with a grin. "We both know that you cannot afford to kill Ser Edmure. My archers have their arrows knocked and ready. If you kill him then my archers will loose off their arrows and make a hedgehog out of you." His words got several men along the walls laughing, and he could have sworn he saw a smirk from Ser Edmure. The Kingslayer looked frustrated though, and was shifting on the spot. _Very strange_ , Tytos thought as a squire came running up to him.

"My lord," he said. "We have spotted men riding from the south. They are riding for the southern camp." Tytos looked at the lad.

"Lannister reinforcements?" Lucas asked. Before he could respond Tytos heard a war horn sound in the distance. It was a familiar sounding war horn, but he could not quite place it. Tytos looked down to where the Kingslayer was stood and noticed that he was looking furious, barking commands to his men as he stomped away to the southern camp across the Red Fork, leaving a confused Ser Edmure standing with a noose around his neck. Tytos looked at Brynden.

"Stay here and watch over Ser Edmure," he commanded. "If anyone tries to approach him they may be about to kick him off the edge of the scaffold. If they do, loose an arrow off at the noose before you loose an arrow off at the Lannister men." Brynden nodded at his father.

"Yes my lord," he spoke, his voice formal as he was addressing the Lord of Raventree Hall rather than his father. Tytos turned to Lucas then.

"Lucas, follow me," he said as he rushed off to the wall overlooking the southern camp.

It took Tytos a couple of minutes to reach the south wall, and when he did he could finally make sense of the sounds that he heard. He looked over the wall to see a host of mounted men riding through the camp, setting tents ablaze and cutting Westermen down. Other men were charging on foot from the east, off to Tytos's left. He watched their progress as they neared the camp, where the Westermen were running off to either flee the incoming soldiers or help their comrades. When the attackers finally closed the gap Tytos saw a huge man with a greatsword carve a Westerman knight in two from shoulder to hip. Tytos saw the man clearly as he stood next to a brazier; the man was massive with a muscular frame, probably near seven feet tall, had dark hair that could have been either brown or black, a full beard, and an ugly looking greatsword that Tytos has seen twice before; once during Robert's Rebellion, and once again during the Greyjoy Rebellion.

"Greatjon fucking Umber," he stated with a wide grin. "The men of the North are here."

"The North?" Lucas said beside him. "But, they have come from the south, not the north."

"Aye lad," Tytos answered. "We'll find out why soon enough, but I think they must have beaten Tywin Lannister's host just enough to make them run for King's Landing." As he spoke he continued to watch the Greatjon and his men cut through the Westermen with contemptuous ease, while the mounted men who launched the assault continued to ride through the camp lighting fires and hacking men down. Tytos noticed the black bear of Mormont among the riders and the men on foot who had joined them at the same time as the Umber men. As he watched he chuckled to himself.

"Lord Blackwood!" a voice shouted out. Tytos turned to see Ser Robin Ryger, the captain of the guard at Riverrun. "A large host of men have emerged from the Whispering Wood and have fallen on the camp situated across from the Tumblestone. They carry the banners of Houses Mallister and Frey." Tytos blinked then. _So Old Walder has finally decided to send aid has he_?

"Northmen to the south, Frey and Mallister to the north, what next, Ironborn from the east?" Lucas said with a smile, his tone suggesting that he was japing. Fighting the urge to snigger at his son's comment Tytos looks at Ser Robin.

"Have men gather at the gates facing the western camp," he ordered. "I'd wager that there will be a host coming from the west soon. When they do we will attack from the gate. Lucas, you will help Ser Robin to hold the gate until I return. I intend to free the prisoners that the Lannisters hold." Lucas looked glumly at him, no doubt he wanted to take part in the fight. One stern look from Tytos though made him nod in agreement.

It was nearly ten minutes later when Tytos heard five horn blasts, one after the other. He was getting up onto his horse after making sure that his sword was in his scabbard. Once on his horse he looked around the courtyard, where he saw Tully guardsmen and his own levies getting ready. Most were on foot, and half of them would charge out and engage the Lannister men-at-arms while the other half would stay and defend the gate to stop the enemy from getting in. Tytos would lead his cavalry as they cut through the Westermen to reach the prisoners. As he took his helmet from one of his sworn-swords a young Tully guardsmen ran up to him.

"Milord, a large group of men have marched from the west," he told Tytos. "They are charging into the Lannisters, but the Lannisters have formed a shield-wall to slow 'em down." Tytos grunted in acknowledgement.

"Did you see the sigils of the host coming from the west?" he asked the lad.

"I only saw one milord," he said. "It was of a flayed man it was. Never seen a sigil like that 'round these parts." A shudder went up Tytos's spine then.

"Bolton," he spoke quietly. "So the Lord of the Dreadfort marches on the Kingslayer then? I wonder what Bolton will make of it when he sees Lannister's son in the western camp." When he finished musing Tytos looked at the sworn-sword that had mounted his horse beside him. "You there," he called out to him, "you will lead the foot into the rear of the Westermen that are forming up a shield-wall to meet the Northmen who march on them, then I want you to break contact with them and carve a path northward before heading back to the gate." The sworn-sword bowed his head.

"Aye milord," the man said gruffly. Tytos turned to see a lad offer a lance up to him.

"Put that away lad," he told him. "Fetch me a spear instead." The lad nodded his head before running off. _Lances are for poxy knights. I'm no bloody knight_ , he thought. He urged his horse forward to the front of the men gathered in the courtyard. "MEN OF THE RIVERLANDS!" he shouted to draw their attention. "Out there are a bunch of villainous Westermen who for weeks now have been killing your fathers and brothers, beating you sons and daughters and raping your mothers and sisters. Will you stand and let them go unpunished for these actions?"

"NO!" the gathered men shouted.

"Will you let them walk away for the crimes they've committed against our fellow Rivermen?"

"NO!" Tytos pointed his finger to the gate.

"Beyond that gate are Northmen, marching beside our fellow Rivermen, with the intent of sending the Westermen screaming to their deaths!" he yelled as the lad he sent to get him a spear returned with said weapon. He took the spear and thanked the lad before looking at the men once more. "But as far as I'm concerned, we shouldn't let our friends have all the fun! Open the gate!" The men in the gatehouse rushed to follow Tytos's order, and soon the gate began to open. "Men of the Riverlands! WITH ME, TO BATTLE!" he roared as he led the charge out of the gate when the drawbridge had been lowered.

Tytos felt the air rush past him as he spurred his horse onwards, the spear raised. A Westerman standing in front of him turned too late to see him coming at him, and was trampled into the ground beneath him. He heard the sound of hooves behind him as he led the men into a group of soldiers that were trying to form up to receive his charge. He laughed as he threw his spear at them, the weapon flying through the air and into the throat of an unlucky pikeman. His horse smashed into the Westermen, hurling them aside like rag-dolls. He rode his horse on, past the men he had just smashed through as his horsemen ploughed them into the earth with their charge. His heart beat fast as he looked around him; Lannister soldiers were either rushing to meet the advancing Northmen or running to the banks of the Red Fork to try and cross to aid their comrades. Tytos drew his sword and charged south to where he knew the prisoners were being held. He glanced over his shoulder to see his men either charging into the rear of the shield-wall that was being formed up or riding after him, with a dozen riders going in the opposite direction from him.

"WITH ME!" he roared once again as he waved his sword forward. Tytos charged towards the stockades where the prisoners were being held, slashing his sword at a foolish Westerman who tried to stop him, blood jetting from the man's body where Tytos's blade sliced through. "GET THE PRISONERS OUT!" he shouted as he thrust his sword into a knight's throat. His men swarmed the Lannister men that got in their way, thrusting their spears or slashing with their swords at the enemy. Another Westerman knight charged at Tytos with a lance aimed for him, screaming like a maniac. Tytos urged his horse forward to avoid the tip of the lance which sailed past where he had been a mere moment ago before riding after the knight and cutting him down, his sword cutting the knight's arm off at the elbow. As his opponent slumped off of his mount screaming in agony Tytos looked over his shoulder to see his men release the prisoners.

"Lord Blackwood!" someone shouted over the sounds of battle. Tytos looked forward to see one of his men rushing to him, his sword red with Westerman blood. "We have secured Ser Edmure and are taking him back into Riverrun." Tytos nodded his head then.

"Good. Now escort the freed prisoners back as well, and make sure those damn fools don't let Lannister's men into the castle," he ordered. The man-at-arms bowed quickly before running to help his comrades.

As his men fought their enemy Tytos looked around to see if there was any sign of the Kingslayer. The disgrace of a Kingsguard knight had not been seen since Tytos decided to lead his sortie out to weaken the foe. As he began to urge his horse onwards a man-at-arms shouted at him in warning. Without thinking Tytos raised his sword to block the incoming blow that was aimed at him, and found himself face to face with the very man who had besieged Lord Tully's home.

"Kingslayer," he hissed in disgust as he pushed his sword forward to throw the man off balance. Lannister brought his sword back and raised it to block Tytos's own strikes. On his fourth slash Tytos found the Kingslayer ride his horse away from him and head in the direction of the Red Fork. "CRAVEN!" Tytos shouted as half a dozen of his mounted men gathered around him. "Let's go hunt a lion boys!" Tytos rode after his foe, his men beside him to prevent anyone from getting in his way. He thought through what he was going to do as he chased Lannister; from what he could see the Bolton men had attacked the western camp all along from the Tumblestone down to the Red Fork, meaning that there was no escape for the Kingslayer, so as long as he was careful Tytos could keep him from fighting his way to freedom. As much as he wants to kill the man Tytos knows that he has more worth alive than dead.

As he rode after the knight a group of Lannister pikemen rushed him and his men, aiming at their horses. Tytos swung his sword down onto the top of one pike and snapped off the head of the weapon while one of his men rammed his sword into the face of another pikeman. The cavalryman in front of him fell as his horse was skewered by three pikes while a fourth man slammed his pike into the fallen man's back. Tytos sliced open the throat of the pikeman who had attacked him before riding his horse into the pikeman who killed his cavalryman, trampling him into the earth, then he hacked his sword down into the shoulder of another, the blade slicing into his heart. Blood rushed after his blade as he tore his sword free before swinging it towards a pike that was aimed at his face, parrying it away. Two of his cavalrymen ran their swords through those men, giving Tytos a chance to look around the battlefield. As he did his horse neighed loudly before falling down; realising what was happening Tytos threw himself off from his mount and landed with a dull thud on his right side. He looked up and saw three enemy men-at-arms with crossbows that they were reloading.

"Fucking cowards," he muttered as he pushed himself up from the ground and charged into the men on foot, swinging his sword at the two stood next to each other, beheading them with the slash. The third crossbowman stared at him in shock before turning to run, only for an arrow to punch into the side of his neck. Tytos looked over his shoulder once he heard the sound of steel clashing steel and saw the Kingslayer fighting his four remaining cavalrymen. One toppled off of his horse minus his arm at the shoulder while another lost his sword-hand before having his belly opened, while the third parried Lannister's strikes as best as he could as the fourth was feathered with crossbow bolts. Three men charged at Tytos with their swords drawn, yelling their war cries. Tytos parried the first blow before kicking the man in the knee and hacking his neck in half, almost but not quite beheading him. The other two were more careful then, and took it in turns to strike out at him. Tytos sneered at the men, throwing insults at them to goad them into making an error. "Is that what your whore of a mother taught you?" he said to one of them.

"Shut yer fucking gob," the Westerman spat as he lunged at him. Tytos smirked as he stepped to the side and disembowelled him with one stroke of his blade. The final man wavered slightly before finding his courage and unleashing a flurry of attacks, one of which clipped Tytos's shoulder armour. Tytos grunted before thrusting with all of his strength into the man's chest; his armour was weak and did not halt the course of Tytos's blade. As the man gasped Tytos looked over his foe's shoulder to see the Kingslayer dismount his horse, the last of Tytos's guard dead.

Tytos drew his sword free from the man-at-arms and stepped away as the dead man dropped to the ground with a wet thump. All around the fighting continued, the men of the Westerlands fighting for their lives against vengeful Rivermen and battle-hungry Northmen. Tytos and Lannister circled each other for a moment, each getting the measure of the other. After a moment the Kingslayer struck out, lunging for Tytos who brought his sword up to block, only to find the strike was a feint; Lannister brought his sword back and slashed at his legs. Tytos stepped back as quickly as he could, but the Kingslayer's sword still struck his armoured shin hard enough to leave a bruise. Grunting in pain Tytos thrust his sword at Lannister's left arm, intending to distract him. His own trick did not work as he had planned as Lannister drew his dirk to block the blow.

"Bloody clever of you," he said as he spun away from him to put distance between them. As he faced Lannister he found the man had taken advantage and began to unleash a flurry of slashes at him. Tytos blocked what he could and let his breastplate take the rest; the blows dented his armour and one managed to slip under his sword-arm. Seeing his chance the Kingslayer slashed up into Tytos's upper arm, slicing into the mail that he wore. Lannister's sword was sharp and strong enough, Tytos realised when his arm was engulfed in agony. Not to let his foe have the advantage Tytos took his sword in his off-hand and thrust his blade into Lannister's left leg, aiming for behind his knee. The tip of his sword only met the armour, but it caught Lannister's attention long enough for Tytos to throw himself into the Kingslayer. Both men tumbled to the ground, their swords flying out of their hands.

"Blackwood shit!" Lannister cried out as Tytos raised his arm to punch him in the face. His attack never happened though as he felt pain in his thigh. He looked down and saw the Kingslayer's dirk which was now lodged into the back of his thigh. He felt his blood rushing out of his leg as Lannister pushed him off of him. Tytos grabbed hold of his leg and put as much pressure on it as he could, knowing that the dirk had gone far enough to nick the artery in his thigh. _You golden haired bastard_ , he thought as he watched Lannister stand up, grabbing his sword. "Well, you won't be flying to your hall now will you?" he said with a grin. Tytos spat at the ground between them.

"If that's the best you've got then you should have been a fucking mummer," Tytos said through gritted teeth as he glared up at him. "You make enough japes to pass as one." The Kingslayer laughed as he stood ready to raise his sword.

As Tytos lay there, waiting for his death, an arrow flew past the Kingslayer's face by an inch. Lannister stepped back and looked south, where the arrow had come from. The Red Fork was just next to them, and on the opposite bank was a group of Northmen. At their head were four men; one was a dark haired youth with a bow, another an older man with greying hair, the third was a young man with auburn hair wearing steel plate and mail, and the fourth a dwarf who was held by the older man.

"KINGSLAYER!" the auburn haired man shouted. "LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS, OR I'LL TAKE YOUR BROTHER'S HEAD!" Tytos looked back at the Kingslayer whose emerald eyes were now wide with fear.

"TYRION!" he shouted. "I SWEAR ON THE GODS IF YOU HURT HIM THEN I'LL BUTCHER YOU STARK!" Tytos's eyes widened then; so this was the Heir to Winterfell, a young Northman with the Tully look?

"WE HAVE YOUR FATHER AS WELL LANNISTER!" the Stark heir bellowed back. Tytos bit back a laugh at the stupid look on Lannister's face.

"You are lying," he said quietly. "YOU ARE LYING!" Tytos looked down at the ground between them and saw a discarded sword within reach. He could grab it and attack the Kingslayer while his guard was down, but that would mean his death; he could feel his blood seeping between his fingers from his thigh. He chastised himself for being foolish, and laughed bitterly as he remembered himself berating Ser Edmure for his own folly.

"FATHER!" a voice brought him back to reality. When he looked up he saw Lucas running towards him with a mixture of Tully, Blackwood and Bolton men, as well as Karyl Vance and one of his own knights. The Northmen were now sweeping through the camp with relative ease, with only a few Lannister men putting up a fight. Tytos looked back to see Lannister turning to face Lucas, and his mind was made up then. With the last of his strength Tytos grabbed the sword close to him and stood up, roaring in pain as he felt his blood spraying out of his thigh. His roar drew the Kingslayer's attention, but as his foe turned to face him Tytos slashed his sword upwards with what little strength he had left, the blade tearing into his foe's right arm. Blood trailed behind the blade in an arc as the Kingslayer's sword flew away from him, his hand still gripping the hilt with half of his forearm still attached.

Lannister looked down the remaining half of his forearm, his face frozen in shock for a couple of moments, before he screamed out in pain. His scream was cut short however as Lucas bashed the pommel of his sword into the side of Lannister's head.

"Put him in irons and stop the bleeding," Tytos heard his second son order. He looked at his boy for a moment, letting the sword drop from his hand, before he gave him a weak smile. Then he toppled back. "No!" he heard Lucas yell. Tytos hit the earth beneath him, his body going cold as his blood flushed out of his thigh. A moment later Lucas was above him, looking down at him with worry. "Father?" he said, his voice sounding distant to Tytos.

"Lucas," he began. "Promise me you'll help Brynden with ruling Raventree. He'll need help to rule for a few more years yet. And make sure... make sure that he chooses a decent bride. Not a fucking Bracken though."

"I promise father," he heard Lucas say, his voice now a whisper to him.

"And tell your sister... tell her I'm sorry to leave her now," he said, his voice breaking as he thought of Bethany, his only daughter. "Tell her I'm sorry that I won't be... able to... to see her wed a man worthy of her. Look... look aft-" Tytos could not finish his sentence as he felt his heart stop beating, all the warmth leaving his body. The last thing that Tytos Blackwood heard before he took his last breath was his son Lucas crying in anguish.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Hope you guys enjoyed this.

Now I have given it some thought and after reading various comments I have made a decision on what path to take, but I'm gonna be a real bastard and not tell you. You're gonna have to wait a bit.

Ned and Jon will be back in the next chapter though, so I hope that gets you all happy. See ya next time.


	5. A Stag's True Colours

**Author's Note:** A quick look at the Martell brothers before we go and see Ned and Jon. Read and review guys. Warning for violence and foul language.

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

 **A Stag's True Colours**

* * *

Oberyn

The sun was shining bright today, and it made the Water Gardens all the more beautiful in Oberyn's opinion. He walked through the corridor to a balcony that overlooked one of the many pools where children would be playing, true-born and bastard born alike; in Dorne a person was never despised simply for being a bastard, and many never saw the need to hide away their bastard children. Oberyn himself had eight daughters, all of them bastards, and he loved each and every one of them unconditionally. His two oldest girls were walking beside him just now, Obara and Nymeria. Obara walked with her spear in hand, her rat brown hair tied back to keep it out of her face, while Nymeria had her long black hair braided and was playing with one of her dozen daggers. All three of them had wide smiles on their faces however; they had received news that made them very happy. The news made Oberyn so happy that before he left Sunspear, the seat of House Martell, he had grabbed his paramour Ellaria Sand and made fierce love to her, giving her his seed several times. The thought made him smile wider.

As they approached the balcony the sounds of laughter met Oberyn's ears. He rested his hands on the wall and watched the children playing their games. It made him smile to watch them, and it reminded him of happier days when he was younger. He remembered the days when he would chase after his older sister Elia, playing games with her and teasing her, and being chastised by his mother for doing so. Of course his mother usually smiled whenever she was chastising him. He remembered Elia's smiles back then, so full of love and life. And before too long his smile fell as he remembered what became of her. She had married Rhaegar Targaryen, the then Crown Prince, eldest son and heir of the Mad King, Aerys the Second; she had given him two children, a girl and then a son; then Rhaegar ran off and took another woman, Lyanna Stark, which then started the war that saw the Targaryens nearly destroyed. Rhaegar was killed by Robert Baratheon, the fat fool who took the Iron Throne, who was also a cousin of Rhaegar. After killing Oberyn's idiot of a good-brother Baratheon took the throne, stepping over the bodies of innocents to get there; his niece Rhaenys, who had been stabbed half a hundred times they said, and his nephew Aegon, a babe whose skull was smashed against a wall, and his beloved sister Elia, who had been raped before being horrifically murdered herself.

Oberyn shook his head to clear his thoughts; it would not do to go and see his brother with angry thoughts, not when he had arrived to deliver good news. Oberyn sighed before looking over his shoulder at his daughters. Obara stood with her spear resting against her shoulder while Nymeria was tossing her dagger up and catching it.

"Come on, let's go and see your uncle," he told them as he led them along the balcony. They walked for a minute until they came upon a broad shouldered man who had white hair and a full beard and was armed with a longaxe which had a six foot long shaft. He looked at the three of them with a stern face.

"Prince Doran does not wish to be disturbed," he stated as he moved to block Oberyn's path.

"Ah, come now Areo," Oberyn said to the man who was captain of Doran's guard. "I'm sure he will make an exception for his little brother and his nieces." Oberyn spoke loudly, knowing that Doran would be nearby. Areo opened his mouth to speak until a voice called to him to allow Oberyn to pass. The Norvosi moved his head slightly to the side before stepping out of Oberyn's way, and Oberyn walked in with his daughters close behind.

The room they entered was quite spacious, with a desk to one side and a couple of chairs to the other. A large doorway led to a closed off balcony that overlooked another part of the Water Gardens. In the middle of the room sat on his wheelchair was the Prince of Dorne himself, Doran Martell. The Lord of Sunspear has been in the Water Gardens for the last few weeks, since word of the Usurper's death had reached them. That news was followed by the news of Eddard Stark's arrest for treason, and then followed by word of Renly Baratheon naming himself King. Oberyn stood next to his elder brother and looked at him with a wide smile.

"I have such wonderful news dear brother," he said. Doran looked up at him and clasped his hands together over his lap, his face betraying nothing as usual.

"Well don't leave us in suspense Oberyn," Doran replied. "Do share this wonderful news." Oberyn turned to look at Nymeria who reached into her dress and pulled out the letter that had arrived not that long ago. Oberyn took the letter and read it again.

 **To Prince Doran of the House Martell,**

 **I write to you to deliver news that I have successfully captured Lord Tywin Lannister after luring him into a trap just east of the Green Fork of the Trident. I hold the Lord of Casterly Rock as my prisoner, as well as his second son Lord Tyrion and his nephews Willem and Martyn, the twin sons of Ser Kevan Lannister. I write this letter to other Lords Paramount of the Seven Kingdoms.**

 **I write to you personally to invite you to travel to Riverrun to discuss an alliance against the Lannisters, and to offer you a chance to right the wrongs committed against your family years ago. My lord father told me once about the unforgivable crimes that your family had suffered, and I find it shocking that justice was never properly served. Therefore I offer to you unconditionally the head of Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain that Rides, as well as Ser Amory Lorch who still draws breath. As I understand it, these are the two who had committed the atrocious acts against Princess Elia and her children, your niece and nephew Rhaenys and Aegon. If we can agree to an alliance then I also offer you the chance to punish Tywin Lannister as you see fit.**

 **Yours sincerely,**

 **Robb Stark, Heir to Winterfell**

Oberyn smiled after reading the letter again, then he gave it to Doran who had held his hand out for it. Doran read the letter quickly, his eyes moving fast, before a slight smile formed on his lips.

"So, the Young Wolf has achieved an impressive victory against the lions," he stated. Oberyn smirked.

"He has taken Tywin Lannister prisoner and he has taken the Mountain's head which he offers to us freely," he said to him. Doran hummed in response.

"As well as offering Amory Lorch and the chance to deal with Tywin ourselves." The two of them fell quiet for a minute, Doran thinking about what actions to take while Oberyn waited for his brother and lord to speak. Finally Doran broke the silence. "It seems to me that we have ourselves a little situation that could become complicated very quickly," he said. Oberyn raised a brow at this.

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused by his brother's words. Doran looked up at him and sighed.

"We have had word from the east," he began. "Viserys Targaryen is dead; the fool proved himself his father's son by wielding a sword in Veas Dothrak, where carrying weapons is forbidden, and threatening his sister Daenerys, who is married to a Dothraki Khal. The Khal in question, a man named Drogo, was present when Viserys did as he did, and killed him by, so I am told, pouring molten gold over his head." Oberyn grimaced at that news. "After that little incident a man sent presumably by the Usurper or someone on his council tried to poison Daenerys, but was foiled and captured. Word is that Khal Drogo is on the warpath and has begun to raid and pillage villages in his path. Which is all well and good, but a sellsword company is tracking them." Oberyn sighed.

"That is not very good," he said, and Doran shook his head in agreement.

"It'll be worse for Daenerys if the sellswords in question catch her and recognise her as a Targaryen," he said as he looked away from Oberyn, who was confused for a moment before he realised what Doran could have meant.

"Yes, I suppose the Golden Company would not be very friendly to her," he said.

"It is not the Golden Company tracking Khal Drogo," Doran said before slowly looking back at Oberyn. "It is the Company of the Rose, a sellsword company made of the descendants of Northmen who entered voluntary exile after the last King in the North bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror." A shiver went up Oberyn's back at the mention of the Company of the Rose, who are known to hate the Targaryens as much as the Usurper did.

During his brief exile to Essos Oberyn served with the Second Sons sellsword company, and he had fought against the Company of the Rose during one of their contracts. The Second Sons were fighting for a nobleman from Volantis who was wanting some escaped slaves returned to him, which Oberyn did not know about until they caught up with them, and once he learned the truth he was not happy about it. The company tracked the escaped slaves only to find them under the protection of the Company of the Rose. Oberyn had fought several of their number, killing some of them before being overpowered by a brute of a woman who disarmed him and kicked him to the side knocking him out. The Second Sons did not succeed in reclaiming the slaves, who were taken to Braavos where slavery is outlawed. Many months later Oberyn met the same woman who had beaten him, and despite being on opposing sides the woman held no ill will towards him once he made it clear that he was not happy about the contract the Second Sons had taken. The woman, who named herself as Bera, drank with him for a time and they traded stories before Bera left with her comrades. Oberyn has never seen her since, which was a shame to him; despite being a beast of a warrior Bera was a lovely woman, and Oberyn would have loved to have had her in bed.

Sighing as he took a seat and faced his brother, Oberyn rested his elbows on his knees and propped his chin on his hands.

"The Company of the Rose are a different breed of sellsword," Oberyn said as he remembered Bera telling him about their company and their hate for Targaryens. "They are careful about which contracts they take, and any contract that involves the possibility of killing a Targaryen will always grab their attention over anything else." Doran nodded his head in agreement.

"They would never stop their hunt until their chosen prey has either gone to ground or been caught," he said looking straight ahead before looking back at Oberyn. "They may not know of Daenerys Targaryen's presence, but if they learn of it then they will harm her. But that is not all that we should be worried about." As he finished speaking Doran pulled out a letter from his robes. "A spy report from my people in King's Landing. Read it." Oberyn took the letter and opened it carefully. He looked over it and read it several times.

 **My Prince,**

 **We have a new development in the capitol. It seems that the Usurper's Hand, Eddard Stark of Winterfell, has escaped from custody with his daughter Lady Sansa. Word is that Varys was seen leaving with them and the younger daughter Lady Arya. The capitol is under lock down, and there have been some unpleasant situations happening. One of my own helpers was nearly killed over her having a loaf of bread. The Boy King has closed the gates to refugees fleeing the war in the Riverlands, and there is talk of the Usurper's brothers naming themselves as contenders to the Iron Throne. Supplies of food from the Reach have all ceased, and crime has increased since. I hope to have more information for you soon. I do hope the last messenger that I sent has reached you with the details of the battle near the Trident.**

 **Your ears in the capitol**

Oberyn looked up at Doran after he had read the letter.

"There was a messenger who had details about the battle the Young Wolf had fought?" he asked. Doran smiled at that.

"So that letter says, but that letter you have in your hand is the first since we heard of Stark's arrest," he answered. "No letter with details on any battle has reached me, which means either the messenger got lost, was killed and his letter destroyed, had been captured and interrogated over the letter's contents, or was simply incompetent. Whatever the case it presents a problem that I could do without."

"And Eddard Stark escaping is a problem because?" he asked his brother, who sighed in annoyance.

"I had hoped that Stark would have been disgraced while Baratheon still lived," he replied. "Nothing would've hurt the Usurper more than to see his childhood friend being publicly disgraced in court. I had hoped to start rumours in regards to his bastard son that would have circulated and perhaps rattled him enough to result in him making errors and have people question his suitability as Hand, but with the boy not being with him I needed something else to cause him problems. But before I could think of something the current conflict prevented all chance of that happening." Oberyn was shocked by this admission. The idea could have worked if it had succeeded, and perhaps it could have led to tension between the Baratheons and the Starks. At the same time however Oberyn was furious with Doran for considering such tactics.

"I get that you want to hurt the Baratheons, and what better way than to have them and the Starks, their closest friends, no longer trusting each other," he said. "But to use a child as a potential pawn in such a scheme? That's low, even for you brother." Doran looked up at him, his eyes hard while his face remained passive.

"The Quiet Wolf fought for the Usurper, or had you forgotten that Oberyn?" he snapped. "Eddard Stark fought to remove the Targaryens after the deaths of his father and older brother."

"Because Mad Aerys ordered their deaths and then commanded old Jon Arryn to deliver to him the heads of both Stark and Baratheon," Oberyn cut in, his voice raised. "I am aware of that Doran. And I tell you now that if the roles were reversed, if it had been you and our mother burned by the Mad King after Elia had been kidnapped by Rhaegar then I would've gladly gone to war with the Targaryens as Eddard Stark did. Have you forgotten that of all of the Usurper's allies, it was Stark who voiced disgust at what happened to Elia?" Doran looked away from him at those words.

"No," he stated quietly. "I have not. I respect Stark greatly for his honour, and I do not hate him, nor would I wish ill upon his family as they had suffered as much as ours had. But if killing him would have aided our cause then I would do just that." Oberyn stood up and walked towards the doorway that led to the balcony where Doran was looking.

"And his family?" he asked, his voice angry. There were many things that Oberyn would do to those who he believed needed to die, but harming women and children was a line that Oberyn swore he would never cross. Doran looked away for a moment before looking back at him, his eyes staring into Oberyn's own.

"You know I would never sink as low as Tywin Lannister," he said with conviction. Doran may have been playing this political game for years but Oberyn could tell when his brother spoke truthfully, which he was clearly doing now. "But with Robert Baratheon dead and Eddard Stark on the run and more than likely trying to get to his son, he may still support Stannis Baratheon, which will put us at odds."

"Unless we can convince him to not support Stannis," Oberyn said more calmly than when he spoke earlier. Doran looked at him sceptically then.

"His own honour would demand that he support the next in line," Doran said. "Which would be Stannis unless he believes that Joffrey and Tommen are the heirs of Robert Baratheon, but considering what he was said to have said in the throne room before his arrest I doubt he will support Tommen." Oberyn snorted at that.

"What do you make of Eddard Stark's allegations?" he asked. Doran smiled slightly.

"Either case could be true; Cersei's children are not the get of the Usurper making Stannis the rightful heir, or Stark and Stannis are plotting against Cersei and her children. Who can say what is fact?" Doran's cryptic answer annoyed Oberyn. He turned to face his daughters, who were both standing waiting for a decision to be made.

"What does it matter what is true in this regards uncle?" Obara asked, blunt as ever. "We should join the Starks in their war against the Lannisters at least. If they support the Baratheons afterwards we can deal with them later." Doran chuckled briefly at Obara's words.

"Oh my niece," he said. "If only it were as simple as that. If we support the Northmen against the Westerlands, we will be expected to bend the knee with them if they pledge themselves to either of the Baratheons, which I rather we do not do. We would eventually be at war with the Baratheons, and we would find ourselves against our former allies, and if we made any agreements with the Young Wolf he will see us as oathbreakers and traitors to be taught a lesson for betraying him and his people, such is the way of the North and its lords." Oberyn looked at Obara who looked over to Nymeria who was now smirking.

"So we do our best to convince the Starks to fight against the Baratheons," she stated, being as diplomatic as possible. "We go to Riverrun, take Clegane's head and bring Lorch back with us, as has been offered to us, freely might I add, by the Stark boy. We then speak with him about making alliances with him, and if we cannot convince him to fight against the Baratheons then we simply thank him for the gifts and leave, and the last thing we need worry about when and if we go to war with the Baratheons is vengeful Northmen wanting to make decorations out of our heads, which they will be less inclined to do if we did not fully ally ourselves with them." Oberyn looked back at Doran and saw him sitting with his hand scratching his chin, clearly thinking things over.

"Well now," he said after a few minutes. "I think we need to sit back and watch for now," he said, which Oberyn sighed at. "However, we will need to keep a closer eye on this situation." That drew Oberyn's attention.

"What do you mean?" Nymeria asked, her voice hopeful Oberyn noticed.

"We shall have our people keep a close eye on Riverrun," Doran replied. Oberyn grinned at that.

"Send me brother," he said as he stepped closer to him, leaning against the arm of the wheelchair. "Let me go and watch things, then I'll be able to decide on what to do once we know more." Oberyn looked at Doran, willing him to decide on the matter. After a minute Doran nodded his head.

"Fine, but you will not go alone," he told him. "You will take twenty men with you and travel as merchants. Have Obara and Nymeria go with you to watch your back. Don't pick a fight that we cannot hope to win." Doran's voice was stern as he gave his brother his orders. Oberyn smiled as he stood up straight and turned to face his daughters, both looking quite happy. "And Oberyn?" Doran's voice halted him before he could move his legs. "Do not worry too much about Tywin Lannister. The Young Wolf may have decided that we should have our way with him, but his father might well overrule him on that and bring about Lannister's end himself." Oberyn inclined his head in response before walking out, Obara and Nymeria close behind him. As they walked out Oberyn whistled a tune that he has hated ever since the Sack of King's Landing when Elia and her children were killed by Lannister's mad dogs. Even though he hated it for being a Lannister song Oberyn found the words quite appropriate for the situation that the Old Lion had found himself in.

 _Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall, and not a soul to hear_.

* * *

Eddard

His leg itched slightly when he moved, but it was much better than before Varys's healer treated it. Eddard was beyond thankful for the skilled healer, a man who was from one of the Free Cities like Varys. Over the nine days that they were on the ship Eddard had slowly gotten use of his leg back to what it was before he broke it after his confrontation with Jamie Lannister months ago. He was not limping quite as badly, and he did not need that blasted cane to help him either. Sansa was unusually quiet for most of the journey, as was Arya. He had explained to them why he had never spoken the truth about Jon's birth and he got them both to promise him that they would not speak of it to anyone outside of the family, and he also asked them to let him speak with Jon himself, as well as their mother and Robb. After that he had told them of the truth about Joffrey and his siblings. Arya was quite shocked by that news while Sansa had been horrified about the fact that she had been betrothed to an incest born bastard.

After nine long days on the ship Eddard and his girls got off the ship and began their ride to Harrenhal, where they would find Eddard's bannermen stationed. They were accompanied by Varys and his twenty or so companions. Most of them were sellswords, while some were what Eddard could only describe as run of the mill spies. The healer was there, and so was Elyn, the woman who had helped to get Sansa out of the Red Keep. She kept close to the sellsword named Duncan, who had retrieved Ice from Ser Ilyn Payne and returned it to Eddard. Ice rested on his back just now, sheathed in its wolf pelt scabbard; he felt more secure with the Valyrian steel greatsword within reach. Ice was never meant to be his to wield, his older brother Brandon should have had that honour as well as being the Lord of Winterfell and all that went with it, but Eddard had gotten used to it over the years after Brandon's murder. He still felt something akin to guilt for having the sword, but he would never trade Ice for another blade during battle.

The small group rode through the woods and along the roads, stopping only to rest the horses every now and then. Eddard was eager for the next rest, but he wanted to get to Harrenhal soon. The sooner he got there the sooner he got back to Cat and Robb. It was their second day on dry land, and so far they have not had any problems. They began to slow down after midday, and a half hour later they had stopped to let the horses rest. Eddard struggled off of his horse, reminding himself to put his good leg on solid ground first. Once he was on the earth he walked over to Sansa to help her down, wincing as a slight jab of pain shot up his leg to remind him of his injury. _Damn Pycelle_ , he cursed, thinking of the aged Grand Maester back in the capitol. Once Sansa was on the ground he turned to help Arya, only to find her already dismounted.

"Girls, come here," he said softly. Both of them came up to him. "If either of you need to relieve yourselves go together and have Elyn nearby, okay?" Arya nodded her head while Sansa spoke her agreement softly. "Now, I need to speak with Lord Varys privately, so if you need me get Elyn to get me." With that he turned and walked away. "And no wandering away, either of you," he called out to them. "I don't need to remind you that there is a war going on."

"Yes father," Sansa replied.

"Alright father," came Arya's voice. The two sisters seemed to have settled their differences for now, which Eddard was grateful for. As he walked slowly he came across the man he was looking for, who was speaking with Duncan.

"If Northmen find us we're fine, but if Lannister or gods forbid Baratheon men find us then we're fucked," Duncan said quietly.

"Have no worries there my friend," Varys tittered. "The Lannisters won't be a problem this far out, and Lord Stannis's men have not been seen leaving Dragonstone for some time, so we should be fine." The sellsword nodded his head and walked off, leaving Eddard with Varys.

"Lord Varys," he addressed the man. The eunuch turned around to look at him and he smiled.

"Lord Eddard, how may I help you?" he asked. Eddard walked closer to him and looked into the man's eyes.

"I need to know a little more about this red priestess of Stannis's," he told him. "I have not heard much about the priesthood of R'hllor, but what little I have heard has not been kind, especially about them being sorcerers using blood for their magic rituals." Varys looked incredibly uncomfortable with what Eddard asked, but after a moment he sighed.

"Very well my lord," he said as he began to walk. "Tell me, what do you know of Shadowbinders?" Eddard resisted the urge to sigh.

"Nothing," he admitted.

"Then I envy you," Varys stated. "Shadowbinders are able to bind shadows to do their bidding, from simply passing along information, to performing terrible deeds such as assassination. The red priestess Mellisandre is a Shadowbinder as well as a priestess of R'hllor. She claims that shadows are servants of light, set to do the bidding of the Lord of Light. As a Shadowbinder she can use these shadows as she chooses, while spreading her religion. She is unfortunately for us a fanatic." Vary paused to take a breath and stand by a tree. Eddard looked at the man and scratched his jaw, still not used to having a clean beard; after weeks of imprisonment he was grateful that he had the chance to clean himself and trim his beard back on the ship after weeks of discomfort from not being able to wash himself. It would be just one more thing that Eddard would like to strangle Littlefinger for, aside from holding a dagger to his throat and betraying him in the throne room.

"Are all the red priests fanatical?" he asked. Varys gave a sad smile and a shrug of his shoulders.

"Some more than others," he responded. "While some are fanatically devoted like Mellisandre is, others are thankfully more tolerant of others and their religions. From what I remember most red priests are more passive and prefer the message of their faith to spread by word of mouth only, and not by acts of war. It all depends on the priest in question. For ever few priests who would rather be diplomatic and use words alone there is one who believes that more drastic action should be used. The same as with the septas and septons who preach the faith of the Seven really. Some are tolerant and understanding while others are intolerant and refuse to acknowledge other faiths." Eddard shook his head in response to that.

"So this Mellisandre will be a threat to us then?" he asked, to which Varys nodded his head. "Well, what about all of this talk about sacrifices?" Varys's eyes widened slightly, as if remembering a foul memory.

"About that my lord," he began, but never finished.

As Varys was about to continue an arrow struck him in the side of the neck, piercing the skin and severing the artery beneath. Varys coughed up blood and clutched his neck, falling to his knees. Eddard grabbed him as he fell, ignoring the pain he felt in his leg as he moved. He held Varys up, surprised at how light he really was despite his build.

"Varys, hold on," he urged him as blood ran from his neck like a fast flowing river. The people of the group began to shout out in alarm, the sellswords drawing their steel.

"Baratheon men!" someone shouted. Eddard looked up and saw men mounted on horses riding towards them. He saw a banner that had the Baratheon's black crowned stag, but rather than being on a yellow field the stag was within a fire wreathed heart.

"Stannis's men," Varys gurgled. "That- that's his per- personal sigil." He coughed up blood, which now ran down his chin.

"Stay still Varys," Eddard said. "Don't move too much." Varys just coughed up more blood before he gasped for breath.

"H- hurry my lo- lord," he struggled. "Ge- get you- your daughters to- safety- be- b- before-" Varys's eyes lost all focus, and soon he went limp in Eddard's arms. Eddard lay the deceased master of whisperers down gently as the Baratheon horsemen rode towards the group.

"LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS! IN THE NAME OF THE ONE TRUE KING, LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS!" one of them shouted. Eddard stood up, grimacing in pain as he did, and reached over his back. His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword as he saw two of Varys's sellswords being cut down. Wrapping his fingers around the hilt he drew Ice from its scabbard and held the greatsword in both hands.

"Sansa! Arya!" he called out. Just then Sansa came running towards him. "Get behind me. Where's your sister?" Sansa looked around her only to look more frightened.

"I don't know," she said as tears streamed down her face. Eddard noticed that there was blood splashed onto her dress. "A knight rode past us and killed one of Lord Varys's men. I ran one way, I think Arya must have run the other." As she talked they heard a woman screaming. Eddard looked in the direction of the scream to see four men tackling a woman to the ground roughly ten yards away; he also noticed one of them unbuckling his breeches. _Honour-less cur_ , he thought as he stomped over to them.

"Sansa, get behind that tree there," he told his daughter pointing at the tree to his left. Sansa ran to the tree that was a couple of yards away from where the Baratheon men were.

"Stop yer struggling woman," one of them said as they pinned the woman down. As he got closer Eddard recognised the woman as Elyn. "You'll be glad once you get a cock shoved into yer cunt." The men laughed as they pulled her skirt up.

"No please, don't," she begged as she tried to get out of their grasp. Eddard swung Ice out at the man who had loosened his breeches, slicing his head clean off.

"Fuck!" the Baratheon man in front of him shouted before Eddard slashed at the man's back, opening him up. The man yelled in pain as he tumbled to the ground, his blood rushing out onto the dirt. The other two stood up as quickly as they could, but Eddard was too fast for them; he thrust Ice into the stomach of the one right across from him, opening his belly as he drew the blade out, then he turned onto the other man who had just got his sword back in hand. That man lunged at Eddard, swinging wildly at him trying to take his head off, but Eddard let him land his strikes before he pushed forward on the man's fifth strike, knocking him off balance. As the man staggered back Eddard brought Ice up over his head and swung down, and sliced the man in half from scalp to groin.

Eddard looked at Elyn, who was pulling her skirt back down over her legs. She looked up at him and gave him a thankful look before standing up. Eddard led her to the tree and told Sansa to follow them, telling both of them to stay right behind him. As he walked Eddard saw thirty Baratheon men cutting down Varys's men. What angered him most of all was that they made no distinction between combatants and non-combatants. Eddard saw three of the sellswords take down a Baratheon man before two more killed them; he watched as a horseman rode down a woman, slashing her back open; he glared as four of the men thrust their spears into the healer who had treated Eddard's wounded leg. Just then three of the Baratheon men approached Eddard on foot, their swords drawn, and when they got closer they charged him. Eddard blocked the first strike before pushing that man into the man behind him.

"Look away Sansa!" he commanded his daughter, hoping that she would. The third man lunged at him, but Eddard parried the blow away and stood still as the man's momentum brought him close enough for Eddard to slice his neck open with Ice. Blood splashed onto Eddard's face as the man fell gurgling. The other two watched their friend fall, which cost one of them their life as Eddard swung Ice in an upwards arc, cutting him open from hip to collar bone.

"You Northern shit!" the last man spat venomously as he launched a flurry of strikes, aiming to take Eddard's sword arm off. As the man prepared for an overhead strike Eddard stepped to the side, and just as he thought the man's sword swung through air and got stuck into the dirt. Not letting him recover Eddard slashed with Ice as hard as he could against his opponent's blade, and shattered the sword into three pieces. The man looked at his broken sword dumbfounded, and Eddard thrust Ice into the man's chest, through his heart.

"Valyrian steel does that," he said before he drew his sword out of the man. He looked over his shoulder at Elyn and Sansa, who had looked away. "Let's go," he told them. They walked through the trees trying to get out of sight, but half a dozen men ran in front of them.

"Put the sword down old man," one of them said. Before Eddard could respond a spear burst out of that man's chest. His death cry drew the attention of his friends and soon they were swarmed by a group of familiar looking warriors. Eddard watched as the wielder of the spear walked into view, and he was never happier to see the She-Bear herself.

"No one threatens the Stark of Winterfell fool," she spat before grabbing the man's head and twisting it violently to the side, snapping his neck.

"Lady Mormont," Eddard said as she walked over to him, unhooking her mace. "You're a sight for sore eyes." Maege smiled at him as she rested the haft of her mace against her shoulder.

"We heard the commotion my lord," she said. "Thought it would be good to stretch these old arms of mine."

With the appearance of Maege Mormont and her Bear Islanders, Eddard turned to face the Baratheon men, who were down to about eighteen men. Only three of Varys's people lived (including Duncan who sported a rather nasty cut to his face), all disarmed and forced to their knees. Eddard and Maege walked towards the Baratheon men, keeping their weapons in view. An archer on horseback saw them and reached for an arrow, but one of Maege's men loosed off an arrow faster than he could draw his arrow from the quiver. The mounted archer tumbled from his steed, drawing the attention of the Baratheon soldiers.

"That's enough!" Eddard shouted. "Put your weapons down at once and I'll be inclined to show you some mercy! Refuse, and you will die!" The biggest of the Baratheon soldiers dismounted his horse and walked closer to him, followed by five of his men. The man was quite tall and broad shouldered, with a brawny look to him.

"Eddard Stark!" he yelled. "In the name of the One True King, surrender at once!" Eddard glared at this man.

"To whom am I talking to?" he demanded.

"Ser Godry Farring, sworn to his grace Stannis of the House Baratheon," he said. "I serve the Lord of Light, as does my King. In his name I command you to surrender now, or be responsible for the deaths of these people." Eddard fumed at this knight's arrogant manner. Maege stepped forward just then, her face angry.

"You will not speak to your betters in such a manner cur," she spat. The knight did not even look at her.

"By the grace of R'hllor you are considered by King Stannis to be of more use alive than dead," he said. "Now surrender your sword. Valyrian steel should be used by a warrior worthy of it such as myself, not some lord who only uses it to scratch his arse." Eddard stepped forward then, raising Ice up and holding it two handed.

"I am more of a warrior than you'll ever be Ser Godry," he said. "If you harm me and mine you will get nothing but war from the North, or have you not heard of my son's victory over Tywin Lannister?"

"I don't give two shits for some cunt of a pup," he spat. Eddard narrowed his eyes at the man, angry at him for insulting his son. He wanted to attack him but he knew that Farring was deliberately goading him. "But you do, so let's see if this changes your mind." Farring waved his hand, and the men behind him stepped aside to allow another man forward, holding onto a struggling Arya.

"Let me go!" she yelled, earning her a backhanded swipe from Farring.

"Shut it bitch!" he snapped. Eddard stepped forward angrily.

"Let her go Farring!" he shouted. The man drew his sword and held the blade against Arya's throat, making Eddard hesitate while Arya stopped struggling.

"Here's what's going to happen Stark," he said. "If you refuse we will kill the girl and then kill you." Farring paused before smirking in an evil manner. "Actually, no. We will kill you and your men, and when King Stannis takes the Iron Throne I'll claim Winterfell by marrying your youngest girl here while your eldest daughter is taken to wherever the King sees fit to send her. If you surrender though, and swear to cast aside your heathen gods and burn your weirwoods then the King will let you keep your cursed lands, not that you deserved them if you got captured by lions so easily." The Baratheon men laughed at their commander's words. Eddard was furious with the man, and noticed that his hesitation allowed the Baratheon archers to knock their arrows. "So what's it going to be?" Farring asked. Eddard wanted to run Ice through this excuse of a knight for insulting his family and threatening his daughters, but knew that he and Maege were out manoeuvred here.

As Eddard struggled with what to do something peculiar happened; a fat boy emerged from the bushes just several yards off to Farring's right. He had short dark hair and some growth on his chin and jaw, a large belly and hardly any muscle at all, and a chubby face. He wore black clothing and held a longsword in his hands, like a novice Eddard noted. The Baratheon men all looked at him and laughed.

"Well what's this?" one of them called out. "A pig's come out to play?" Most of the archers kept their bows strung while trying not to laugh. The boy held the sword up and looked at the men nervously.

"D... DROP HER!" he called out to them with some conviction, but that only made them laugh even more.

"You what!?" Farring called out. The boy visibly shuddered.

"I... I said... d... dr... drop her!" he called out again, lacking the same conviction as before. Eddard glared at the scene in front of him as the Baratheon men kept on laughing.

"You want her?" Farring said as he grabbed hold of Arya by her throat. Eddard stepped forward but was held back as one of the archers loosed off an arrow at his feet as a warning. "Then have her you fat shit!" Farring yelled as he hurled Eddard's youngest daughter at the fat boy.

"ARYA!" Sansa shrieked in horror as her sister flew through the air. Eddard watched on in horror, his heart racing, as Arya collided with the boy who had dropped his sword to the ground, much to Farring's amusement. The laughter continued for a moment after Arya and the boy tumbled to the ground until a white blur took one of the archers off of his horse.

"What the fuck?" another archer called out. As the Baratheon men looked around, a group of nine men charged out from the bushes, roaring battle cries as loud as their lungs could let them. Eddard looked at the first three who came out; one was a tall and thick necked lad a couple of years older than Robb and Jon, with dark hair and the beginnings of a beard, holding onto a sword like a trained soldier; the second was about the same age, with a smaller build and large ears and moved faster than the first; the third one had dark hair, grey eyes and a lean build, and it was this man who shocked Eddard.

"Is that Jon?" he heard Sansa ask. Eddard watched as Jon slashed his sword at the first man he came across, his sword cutting into the man's lower belly. The other men all engaged the Baratheon men, who found themselves being overwhelmed by the unexpected assault. The archers were trying to decide who to loose their arrows off at, only to either fall to one of Maege's archers or be pulled down by the white blur that Eddard realised was Jon's direwolf Ghost. Eddard strode forward with Maege beside him and four of her warriors following close behind. Eddard stalked towards Farring who was shouting orders to his men.

"Ser Godry!" a man shouted before Ghost tore him down. Farring turned around to see Eddard stomping to him with his sword raised. The knight raised his sword to block as he swung Ice down hard, and to Eddard's satisfaction Farring's sword proved incapable of stopping Valyrian steel. Ice shattered the weaker steel of Farring's sword and carved into his right shoulder, slicing through his steel plate as Eddard drove Ice halfway down the knight's chest. Farring gasped in shock, and began to tremble before his knees gave out.

"No one," Eddard said as he thrust Ice further into Farring's chest, "ever threatens my kin." With that he pulled Ice out of the man and brought the greatsword up over his head, and in the next swing Ser Godry Farring's head was parted from his body, rolling along the ground as his corpse dropped with a squelch, spraying blood everywhere.

As he took his eyes away from the dead knight Eddard looked around to see both Maege's men and Jon's men finish off the Baratheon soldiers. Jon thrust his sword into the belly of a soldier who was pleading for mercy, but like Eddard he seemed to have gone deaf to such pleas from these men. He watched as the boy he has raised as his son tore his sword free and turned to look at him, his face as sullen as ever.

"Father," he said as he walked over to him. Eddard felt a sudden tightening in his chest then, which he last felt when Jon called him father for the first time years ago when he was a young boy. Eddard stepped closer to Jon then, wincing as a sharp pain shot up through his leg.

"Jon," he managed to say through gritted teeth. Jon flinched at his tone, and Eddard chuckled slightly. "Relax lad, it's just my leg reminding me of my wound." Jon relaxed then before walking up to him and wrapping his free arm around him. Eddard did not hesitate like he normally would do, and wrapped his free arm over his nephew.

"JON!" Sansa shouted. Eddard let go of Jon and stepped back, only to see Sansa crash into Jon, wrapping her arms around him. Jon's eyes widened in surprise at that, but soon he returned her embrace and smiled.

"Hello Sansa," he said. Eddard looked over to where Jon and his group had emerged from to see Arya dusting herself off, the fat boy trying to help her.

"I'm not a prissy damsel in distress," she said sharply.

"I'm sor... sorry my lad-" he began only to be cut off by Jon.

"Do not finish that sentence Sam," he called out. "That is probably the worst thing to say to Arya." Hearing Jon's voice Arya looked up at him and smiled widely before running faster than Eddard has seen her do in a long time. Jon dropped his sword to the ground and knelt down with his arms open as Arya barged into him as if intending to tackle him to the ground. Jon however just stood up with Arya in his arms, both of them laughing away. As they laughed Eddard saw the other men who were with Jon approach, and he noticed that six of them were wearing the armour of the guards of Winterfell.

"Milord," one of them said, bowing his head. "We are relieved to see you." Eddard nodded his head in response.

"Not as relieved as I am to see friendly faces," he said. He turned back to Jon who was now looking at him. "How on earth did you manage to get half a dozen men of Winterfell to follow you?" he asked. Jon put Arya back down on the ground and picked up his sword.

"As I was leaving Winterfell Ser Rodrik sent them with me," he answered. Eddard nodded his head before looking at Sam, who was the fat boy in black, and the other two who charged out with Jon.

"Who are these three?" he asked. Jon shifted nervously on his feet as he walked closer to them.

"My friends who joined me from the Wall," he replied, and Eddard noticed the smaller lad flinch at the mention of the Wall. Jon pointed to the thick necked lad first. "This is Grenn, who is nearly as good with a sword as I am."

"Only thanks to you Jon," Grenn said. Jon patted him on the shoulder before pointing to the smaller lad.

"That there is Pypar, or Pyp as we normally call him." The young lad bowed at Eddard, murmuring a quick greeting. "And this brave one here is Samwell Tarly," Jon finished. Eddard looked at the boy and frowned slightly.

"Are you Lord Randyll Tarly's kin?" he asked him. The boy nodded his head, his lips quivering slightly.

"Y... yes my lord," he answered. "His eldest s... son." As he spoke Eddard noticed Maege walk up to them, clearing her throat. Jon looked at her and quickly bowed his head.

"Lady Mormont," he said, his voice serious. Arya gasped before looking up at her.

"You're the She-Bear?" she asked, her voice full of wonderment.

"Arya," Sansa groaned, making Eddard chuckle. Maege smiled at the little girl in front of her.

"Yes little wolf, that I am," she said before turning her gaze onto Jon. "Jon Snow. The last time I saw you, you were maybe twice the size of my mace here," she said lifting her weapon up for him to see. Eddard watched as Jon gulped nervously. "I remember my Dacey and Alysane holding onto you and chatting away while you made the noises that babes always make. If I remember rightly Lady Stark was quite uncomfortable with that, and seemed relieved when they left you to pay more attention to your brother Robb." Jon shifted on the spot, looking rather uncomfortable under Maege's gaze.

"Come on Maege, leave the lad be," Eddard said. "You're worse than your brother for that." Maege turned sharply at his words.

"I am not," she said incredulously. "Jeor is far worse than I am." After that retort she turned to look at Jon again. "So tell me Jon how is my brother? As stubborn as a bear I'd wager. You left the Wall _before_ taking your vows I hope?" Jon smiled slightly before he answered.

"He is well my lady," he said. "Lord Commander Mormont was disappointed that I chose to leave instead of taking my vows and joining the Watch." Maege snorted then as she stepped away.

"With some of the twats that he has to put up with as underlings I don't blame you for leaving. Which twat was it anyway?" she asked him. Jon opened his mouth to answer but Maege cut him off. "I know it was one of those useless twats that led to you leaving Jon, I'm not daft. Was it Thorne?" Eddard noticed Jon's eyes widen slightly, and again he opened his mouth to speak and again Maege cut him off. "Of course it was, the useless old prick. Jeor's told me much about him in his letters, what few he decides to send when he remembers about his dear old little sister." Eddard chuckled slightly as she continued with her tirade. He chose that moment to lean over to Jon and speak.

"We can talk later Jon," he said quietly. "I'm sure you have much to say to me, and believe me so do I. But right now you had better listen to Maege as she rants. It's better than to not listen to her." Jon looked at him and nodded his head, his eyes wide.

"Yes father," he said before rushing off to listen to the Lady of Bear Island ranting away, much to Eddard's amusement. The girls sniggered as Jon followed Maege.

"Poor lad," one of the Bear Islanders said behind Eddard. "At least he don't need to 'ave his ears bent all the time like the rest o' us." Eddard looked over at the man.

"In my experience it is always best to let Lady Mormont rant away," he said. "Not letting her do so is unhealthy." Arya giggled while Sansa put her hand over her mouth to try and hide her own quiet laughter.

"Oh don't I know it milord," the man said. "I swear I've still got that bruise from when she whacked me last year. Most o' us here 'ave to learn the hard way not to rile Lady Mormont up."

While Maege ranted away with Jon listening to her doing so, Eddard set the men about clearing up the dead. He noticed Elyn was in Duncan's arms crying quietly, no doubt having told him what nearly happened to her. As he walked by Duncan looked over to him and gave him a grateful smile. Eddard nodded to him as he continued to walk along.

"Father," Sansa called out to him. He turned to see his daughters walking over to him. "Where's Lord Varys?" she asked. Eddard sighed then.

"He is dead," he told them. "Killed at the start of the attack." Both of his girls looked shocked at that. After a brief moment Arya spoke up.

"I'm not sure if that is a bad thing or not," she said, earning a look of disgust from Sansa. Before either Sansa or Eddard could say anything Arya quickly explained, "I mean, I'm sure Lord Varys was the man that I saw in the tunnels, when I got lost and you had the men out looking for me." Eddard looked at her pointedly.

"Wait, what tunnels?" Sansa asked, to which Arya rolled her eyes.

"The ones beneath the Red Keep and the Tower of the Hand," she answered. "The tunnels that one of the Targaryen kings built when the castle was still being built hundreds of years ago."

"Maegor the Cruel," Eddard said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Arya, are you saying that Varys was one of the two men that you had overheard talking about me having the book and finding the bastard like Lord Arryn did?" he asked her. Arya looked at him and nodded her head.

"He looks and sounds similar to that man father," she said. "I can't think of it being anyone else. I never really trusted him after we got on the boat."

"Arya, how can you say that?" Sansa asked, stunned at Arya. "It was because of Lord Varys that we got out of King's Landing."

"And he could've helped us to get out sooner," Arya suggested. "Or helped father to bring Joffrey and the Queen down rather than not doing anything."

"Arya," Eddard spoke warningly then. Arya looked at him and fell silent. He then looked at Sansa. "Nevertheless Arya is right Sansa," he said. "Varys was not someone that I trusted easily. The man had an agenda. We may never know the extent of it now that he is dead, but he withheld too much information. And he knew a lot of information, and not just about Jon." Eddard said that last part quietly, as he saw Jon and Maege walking over to them. "Remember what I said?" he asked them, and to his relief the girls nodded their heads. Just then Maege cleared her throat.

"My lord, I meant to tell you earlier," she began as she stopped before Eddard. "A group of men travelling to the Wall stopped at Harrenhal not long after we had secured the castle. The recruiter dropped one of the lads off with us, saying that you had wanted him taken away but not to the Wall." Eddard blinked at that, trying to figure out what Maege was talking about. "The recruiter said that a fat man smelling of perfume had said that you wanted the lad taken away from King's Landing and sent to either Harrenhal or Winterfell. The lad has black hair..."

"Blue eyes and answers to the name Gendry," he finished. "I know the lad Maege, but I did not ask for him to be removed from the city. The fat man smelling of perfume was Lord Varys, who is among the dead here." He stroked his hand through his hair, sighing as he did. "Anyway, how is the situation at Harrenhal?" he asked. Maege looked off to the side before looking at him again.

"Ser Helman Tallhart commands the garrison that your son left there," she answered. "Lady Shella Whent has been restored as the Lady of Harrenhal after having yielded the castle to the Lannisters, but her health is failing. The castle has been fortified by our soldiers, and Ser Helman sends out patrols regularly, and as you may have gathered I lead some of those patrols. I can't stand being near Helman at the moment; the prat cannot shut up about finding a decent wife for his son Benfred." Eddard smirked at Maege's exasperation. "Last week it was Jorelle, the week before it was Lyra, the week before that it was Dacey because he knows Alysane has children. How long until the twit suggests my Lyanna? If he does I'm likely to brain him."

"I'll talk with Helman once we are there," Eddard said before she could continue. "I'll let him know to drop the suggestions." Maege looked at him and gave him a smile while Arya laughed beside him. "So, Lady Whent is dying, so House Whent is at its end. The supposed curse of Harrenhal has claimed another House it seems. I'd have that wretched castle torn down if I had the power to do that, and not just for its so-called curse." Eddard remembered nearly twenty years ago when he had first seen Harrenhal, when Lady Shella Whent's husband Lord Walter Whent hosted a tourney there. It was at that tourney that Rhaegar Targaryen first laid eyes on his sister Lyanna, and where he crowned Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty instead of his own wife Princess Elia. Harrenhal has always been an unpleasant memory for Eddard, and he cannot stand the castle. He has never been a superstitious man, but Eddard cannot help but think that demolishing that castle would do the land a lot of good.

"Well my lord, we can always sort that out after this war has been done," Maege said. "I suppose you won't support Stannis Baratheon's claim to the Iron Throne?" Eddard shook his head.

"Not after this Lady Mormont," he responded. "Stannis has shown his true colours now. I will not support a man who sends false knights to intimidate those he would rule over."

"We could always put Tommen on the Iron Throne?" Maege offered.

"We could, if he was not a bastard born of incest, like his brother Joffrey," Eddard said bluntly. Maege looked at him, her eyes wide. It almost looked as if they were about to bulge out of her sockets of their own accord.

"What?" she said, her statement echoed by Jon and some of the gathered men.

"Where to begin?" Eddard muttered before he told Maege and Jon about all he had learned.

* * *

Robb

Riverrun was theirs, but at great cost. Robb was sat down in his grandfather's solar with Greatjon and Harrion beside him. Harrion has been looking dreadful since learning of his brother Eddard's death during the fighting in the Whispering Wood, but he was looking nowhere near as dreadful as his father Lord Rickard was. Torrhen was recovering from a broken rib after his fight with a knight from House Crakehall, who was the same knight who killed Eddard. The fighting in the Whispering Wood had nearly been a disaster thanks to Ryman Frey, Lord Stevron's eldest son who was now stripped of his knighthood and inheritance. It was Ryman's folly that got not just Eddard killed but also two of Ryman's sons, as well as other men.

When the single flaming arrow had been loosed off Robb had cursed their foul luck, but upon learning that the Kingslayer had not taken the bait he felt awful; those men who died in the woods north of Riverrun had died for nought, and Jamie Lannister had led the defence of his own camp as best as he could. Robb learned that the Kingslayer had killed several of Bolton's commanders and had fought the Lord of the Dreadfort himself, wounding him by cutting off his left arm above the elbow. Then he had drawn Lord Blackwood away from the castle after the man had led a sortie out to rescue Robb's uncle and the other prisoners. Robb had watched the outcome of that fight himself, as Tytos Blackwood fought Jamie Lannister just across the Red Fork where Robb and Theon were stood with Lord Rickard and the Imp. Robb called out to Jamie Lannister after Theon loosed off an arrow past the man's face. They both shouted across to each other until a man Robb learned later was Tytos Blackwood's second son had arrived and distracted the Kingslayer, which allowed Lord Tytos to grab a sword and cut off the Kingslayer's sword arm. After that the man fell, and Robb later learned that the Lord of Raventree Hall had died.

Hundreds of men had died and even more were wounded at the battle in the camps; half of the Rivermen soldiers were slain as were a third of the Northmen, most of those being Lord Bolton's men. Lord Karyl Vance had been killed by a Westerman pikeman who had gotten lucky, while Ser Marq came close to death but was saved by the timely arrival of one of his father's knights who died in his stead. Smalljon had been brought low by a knight that would have killed him had Robb not hacked the knight's arm off. Dacey lost one of her subordinate commanders and had an arrow hit her in the shoulder but was saved from being skewered by a lance when Grey Wind lunged at the horse and killed it, leading to said horse's rider flying from his mount and breaking his neck when he landed on the ground.

As they sat there mulling over the outcome and the cost of the battle the door to the solar opened to reveal Maester Vyman. All three of them stood up as the aged man entered the room. Greatjon cleared his throat loudly.

"My son Maester?" he asked. Although he did not show it Robb knew that the man was worried for his heir.

"Jon has only got a small lump on his head to worry about Lord Umber," Vyman reported. At that the Greatjon snorted.

"Is that all?" he asked with a chortle.

"At worst he may have some sense knocked into him," the Maester japed, earning a roar of laughter from the three of them.

"We've more chance of Jon swearing off women than we have of him getting sense knocked into him," Greatjon said once he got his laughter under control. Robb calmed himself before he looked at the man.

"My brother Torrhen?" Harrion asked before Robb could speak.

"His ribs will heal with time," Vyman answered. "As it turned out he had two broken ribs, not one. It was good fortune as well as his armour that saved young Torrhen from having more ribs broken, or worse being killed." Robb heard his friend breath a sigh of relief at that news. Robb looked at the Maester and spoke next.

"What of the other casualties?" he asked him. The aged man shuffled closer before he clasped his hands in front of him.

"Lady Dacey only needed a couple of stitches and a bandage after the wound was cleansed," he said with a frown. "I have heard ladies curse before while giving birth, but I never thought I would live to see a young woman uttering every third word as a curse while having a small cut like that stitched." Robb smiled while Greatjon chuckled.

"If you think Dacey's bad just wait until you have to treat her mother," he said. "Old Maege curses an awful lot when she gets her armour dented, and she's worse when she actually gets wounded." Vyman shook his head in disbelief at Greatjon's words. Robb put his hand over his mouth to hide his smirk before nodding at him to continue.

"Ser Marq's wounds were mainly superficial, the only serious one being the cut on his upper arm which was a bit too close to the artery there. If the cut was another inch in then Ser Marq would have likely died before I could treat him," he told them. Vyman coughed slightly before he continued. "Lord Bolton however is not doing too well I'm afraid. He lost far too much blood after Ser Jamie cut off his arm. I fear that my efforts will likely have been for nought." Robb closed his eyes at that; he may not trust the man but there was no denying that Roose Bolton was one of the best generals that they had. When Robb opened his eyes he looked squarely at Vyman, keeping his face hard as he spoke his next words.

"And our guests?" he asked. The Maester looked at Robb with wry amusement then.

"Ser Jamie will live, though I get the feeling that you may need to force food down his throat for however long he will live," Vyman said. "Lord Tywin on the other hand will have to lose his leg." Robb was a little bit stunned at that. "His leg has gotten infected and the corruption is spreading. If I do not amputate then he will die. I'm sure you would rather he live to face justice my lord?" Robb nodded his head.

"Aye Maester," he replied. "See that it is done. Let me know if anything else should happen in regards to the prisoners."

"Yes my lord," Vyman said with a bow before leaving the room.

Once the man had left Robb and the others sat down on their seats. They were joined shortly afterwards by Theon and Dacey, who looked ready to rip Theon's throat out. When those two had taken their seats Robb's mother walked in with her uncle. She looked like she had been crying for a while, and Robb was worried.

"Mother?" he asked. Catelyn wiped her hand over her cheeks before she sniffled.

"You grandfather would like to see you as soon as possible Robb," she said to him. Robb winced slightly at those words, knowing that his grandfather was in poor health.

"How bad?" he asked, trying not to let his pain show, though the look his mother gave him let him know he did not do that well.

"He may not be with us for long," she said. "Perhaps a few more months, but no more than a year." Robb felt his heart sink at the sound of his mother's voice breaking. He wanted to stay and speak with his friends; they have had no word from the capitol about his father and sisters, and they do not know if either of King Robert's brothers have responded to his letters if indeed they have received them yet. Being with his friends has helped him to stay relatively sane over the last few weeks, but only just. A part of him selfishly did not want to see his grandfather as he was just now, but he had never met the man at all in his life. _Can I really do that to my mother_? he thought. _Can I really be so cruel to her and not see my grandfather_? He had never met either of his grandfathers; his father's father was murdered by the Mad King before he had been born, and he was a babe when his grandfather last saw him.

"I will go just now mother," he said to her having made up his mind. He looked to his friends around him. "I will be back in a short while," he said to them. Greatjon stood up and patted him on the shoulder.

"Don't you worry lad, we'll keep ourselves occupied until you get back," he said, his voice respectfully quiet for a change. "Now go see him, and take as much time as you need. We won't begrudge you this." Robb nodded his thanks to him before leaving the room, his great-uncle leading the way.

It took them ten minutes to reach the room where Lord Hoster Tully was resting. As they approached the door Brynden opened it for Robb and told him to go on inside, saying he will visit his brother later. Robb did not ask him why for he knows of the feud between his grandfather and great-uncle that goes back for some three decades or so. Entering the bedroom Robb walked over to the bed next to the window, where a servant bowed to the man in the bed before leaving, murmuring to Robb as he left. Robb approached the bed slowly and felt his throat constrict slightly upon looking at the man laying there; he remembers his mother telling him that his grandfather had been a tall and broad man when he was younger, with red-brown hair and vibrant blue eyes and never staying still for too long. The man laying before him though was not that man. The man was old and very skinny, practically skin and bones; his hair was grey, and his eyes seemed unfocused. The Hoster Tully before him seemed a far cry from the man Robb had heard his mother speak of. Robb stepped closer to the bed, and Hoster Tully looked up at him, his eyes narrowing as they focused on him.

"Edmure?" he breathed out. "I thought I... told you to go to... King's Landing to get the Crown's help... with those brigands." Robb was confused for only a moment before he realised that his grandfather had mistaken him for his uncle.

"I'm not your son my lord," Robb said. "I'm your grandson." Hoster Tully looked at him for a few quiet moments. "Cat's son, born right here in this castle," he added, hoping that it would jog his grandfather's memory. Hoster's eyes softened then as he looked at him.

"Robb?" he managed. "Come closer lad. Let me see you clearly." Robb did as he was bid, leaning closer to his grandfather so that he could see him better. "By the gods... you look so much like your uncle... although the beard suits you better than it does him." Hoster laughed at that, as did Robb, who was fighting to keep the tears from running down his face. "My my... fifteen years since your mother birthed you... and you look as old as your father was the first time I met him," he said with a smile. "Oh I remember young Eddard back then... so quiet, yet so sharp too... he hardly ever smiled, although he had no reason to back then... a second son becoming the lord of his father's lands and castle... such a cruel way to come to such responsibilities." Robb smiled, blinking his eyes clear.

"I wish I had come south sooner," Robb said to him. "I wish I could have seen you years ago, when things were easier." Hoster looked off to the window then, gazing out to the sky before turning back to face him.

"I heard that it was you that led the attack," he stated. "Edmure was always wanting to be a strong warrior when he was younger... and you have already won three battles... Cat told me about the battle with Tywin Lannister's host near the Green Fork... I wish I could have seen the look on the Old Lion's face when you took him captive... that would have been a magnificent sight..." Robb chuckled at that. "And then the battle in the woods... I'm glad to see Stevron is the Lord of the Crossing now... Late Walder was always a pain in the backside... Stevron is a better man than his father, despite waiting sixty years to take his father's place... he must have been heartbroken to send his eldest son away in disgrace like that though... and to lose two of his grandsons as well... I'm not sure that I could have dealt with such news..." Robb swallowed at those words, trying not to think about suffering such a fate; he could not begin to imagine Lord Stevron's pain.

"Lord Stevron did his duty to you grandfather," Robb said to him. "He arrived to help in the end." Hoster smiled slightly then.

"Yes Robb... he helped in the end... that's what matters," he said, his voice soft. Just then his eyes snapped shut and he gritted his teeth. "Argh curse this illness... the crabs are always pinching away at me..." Robb sighed, feeling helpless at his grandfather's suffering. "If only the gods could have chosen a less painful means of finishing me off." Hoster looked back at Robb after a moment and seemed to focus on him. "You still have my eyes lad," he said with a smile. "I remember Cat being... worried that your father would reject you... for not looking like a Stark... I told her to not be so silly..." Robb smirked at that as Hoster smiled. "I told her Lord Eddard would love you no matter what you eyes and hair looked like. Ah sweet Cat... always dutiful... is it just you here Robb? None of my other grandchildren..." Hoster began to cough just then and pointed to a cup on his bedside table. Robb took the cup and gave it to his grandfather, who drank it gratefully before giving him the cup.

"No grandfather," Robb said when he put the cup back down. "The girls are in the capitol, and my brothers are too young to travel let alone see a battle." Hoster smiled at him then, though it was a sad smile.

"Oh... I wish I could see them," he said. "I fear that I will be meeting the Stranger very soon. Tell me of your sisters Robb, would you?" he asked him. Robb smiled, wiping his hand over his eyes.

"Sansa, the older of the two, has mother's hair and eyes," he told him. "Mother says she looks just like she did when she was that age. And Arya," Robb laughed then, thinking of his youngest sister. "She has father's look, brown hair and grey eyes. She is Sansa's opposite; where Sansa is the proper lady, Arya's running wild." Hoster laughed at that.

"Sounds like Arya has... the wolf blood I heard that you Starks have," he said with a chuckle. "I remember your father's father, Lord Rickard... when he wrote to me about your father, uncles and aunt he had used the term... wolf blood to describe Brandon and Lyanna... but I wonder if Arya had gotten some of that from Cat instead." The thought of his mother being like Arya was amusing to Robb, and before he knew it both of them were laughing. When their laughter died down Hoster had a faraway look in his eyes. "And what of your brothers?" he asked after a moment. Robb took a deep breath then.

"Bran and Rickon both have our look grandfather," Robb answered. "Rickon is nearly four, but he runs mother and the servants ragged most of the time. And Bran, he has become more solemn recently, but despite that he seems to be more studious." Robb decided not to tell Hoster about Bran's fall. The last thing his grandfather needed to know was that one of his grandchildren was almost crippled.

"And how's your other brother?" Hoster asked, which shocked Robb. He did not expect his grandfather to enquire about Jon, who was not of Hoster's blood. "Has Cat accepted him at all?" Robb swallowed thickly then, and sighed.

"My other brother, Jon..." Robb trailed off then, not sure where to start. Before he could speak though Hoster spoke up.

"Oh, what am I saying, of course Cat hasn't accepted him," he said. "She gets that from her mother... my Minisa, your grandmother. She was always a proud woman... I think that was just her Whent blood though... the Whents were always proud, and took no insult no matter what form such an insult took." Hoster pointed to the cup again, and Robb passed it to him. He drank from the cup before giving it back to Robb. "I was disappointed with your father... when he brought his son with him," he spoke as Robb put the cup back down. "Of course I was... he dishonoured my daughter, your mother... but at the same time he did right by the boy. Cat was not happy about it... but even I could see that Eddard had no real choice... what kind of father could he be to you and your true-blooded siblings if he did not take care of his child by a woman who wasn't his wife?" Hoster let the question hang in the air for a few moments. "Where is he anyway? Is he with you?" Robb shook his head.

"My brother..." he began before clearing his throat. "Jon went to the Wall months ago. When father left to become King Robert's Hand, Jon left to join the Night's Watch." _And escape my mother_ , he added bitterly in his mind. It was the one thing he resented both of his parents for; he resented his mother for her treatment of Jon over the years, and he resented his father for not speaking about Jon's mother. There was nothing that Robb could do about it, but that was just how he felt. He loved Jon the same as he loved the rest of his siblings,and if he could he would have kept Jon nearby as part of the household, regardless of what his mother said to that. But he could not tell Jon what to do; Jon was his own man now, and only Jon had any say in what he did.

"An honourable decision," Hoster wheezed. "Even a bastard can rise high... at the Wall. Has he taken his vows though?" Robb blinked at that. _Why are you interested in Jon? He is not your grandchild_?

"I don't know," he answered. "He must have done by now, but I don't rightly know." Hoster smiled at him.

"If you want him back at Winterfell, you need only send word to him, so long as he hasn't sworn his vows," he said. "He is kin to you Robb... Cat may not like it, but so what? She put up with him for nearly fifteen years, what's another fifteen?" Robb laughed nervously at that.

"I'm not sure I would say that to my mother grandfather," he responded, and Hoster chuckled in response.

"Why, what's Cat going to do? Send me to bed?" And both of them laughed for quite some time at that jape.

They spoke with each other for at least a couple of hours, if not longer. Robb sat and listened to his grandfather as he told him stories from his youth to his later life; his first meeting with Minisa Whent years before they married; the War of the Ninepenny Kings where both Hoster and Brynden fought and earned names for themselves; his marriage to Minisa, and the arguments he had with Brynden about his refusal to marry Bethany Redwyne; his joy at the birth of his first two sons, only for them to die in infancy; his worry over the birth of Robb's mother, and his joy when she lived; the love he felt when Minisa gave him Lysa and Edmure, and his heartache when she and their last son died on the birthing bed; his fury at the Targaryens over the Mad King's murder of Robb's uncle and grandfather; the battles he fought during Robert's Rebellion; and his joy at Robb being born here in Riverrun.

"Your mother wept tears of joy when she held you for the first time lad," Hoster told Robb as he sat there with a smile, his elbow propped on the bedside table with his cheek resting against his hand. "When she put you into my arms, it was like my first time holding a child all over again." He laughed slightly at that before looking out the window again. "It's getting late now," he said before looking back at Robb. "Your lords will be wondering where you are. You may still be the heir... but you have proven yourself a worthy lord to those men out there... and the women as well... can't forget the Mormonts now, can we?"

"No, we mustn't," Robb said as he stood up. "Would you like me to send anyone to you?" Hoster nodded his head.

"Send for Vyman, when he has a free moment," Hoster said as he held his hand out to Robb. He took his grandfather's hand and held it. For a dying man Hoster still had quite a grip.

"You are still young Robb," he said. "When we are young we always make mistakes. Some are quite lucky and make few mistakes. Fewer still, like Tywin Lannister, hardly ever seem to fail. You have won three battles lad." Hoster seemed to grip Robb's hand harder then. "The one where you took old Tywin prisoner... the battle up in the Whispering Wood... and your battle out there, beyond Riverrun's walls. But don't let that get to your head." Hoster's voice hardened then, his eyes boring into Robb's. "I fear that if you are not careful you will fall into the same trap Tywin fell into." Robb frowned at that.

"What trap is that?" he asked his grandfather. Hoster gave a slight smile.

"Pride, my boy," he answered. "Pride is the bane of all lords if they do not keep it in check. Tywin Lannister had brought his House back from the brink when he crushed Houses Reyne and Tarbeck, but his pride took over. He was proud of his accomplishments, and when Mad Aerys made him Hand back before he was mad and the two were still close friends, he became more proud. And his pride swelled to the point that he would not let himself be humbled. The man was too proud... sending a bard with a harp to play that accursed song of his commemorating what he did at Castamere... as a way to subdue potential rebel lords... his pride led to arrogance... and has led to his downfall, at your hands Robb. Tywin let his pride rule him... don't let it rule you." Robb looked at his grandfather intently then, looking him in the eye; this was not the ramblings of an old man nearing his end, he realised, but rather it was the wisdom of a man who knew what the price of pride was and was warning his kin against letting it rule their hearts. "Never... ever let pride rule you lad... it will lead to your downfall, as it has for Tywin." His voice fell to a whisper as Hoster let go of Robb's hand. "As it has for Tywin."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So, poor Varys. I like him (to an extent) but i wanted him out of the picture for this fic.

The last bit with Robb speaking with his grandfather was something I literally just came up with a few hours before posting this chapter. I must admit that it was hard for me to do this scene with Hoster bedridden as it reminded me of the last time I saw my own grandfather a couple of years back before he died. Writing that just reminded me about back then, which was hard for me then.

Anyway, let me know what you think guys, I would love to hear your opinions about this chapter, especially Robb and Hoster's interaction with each other.


	6. Here We Stand

**Author's Note:** A look at Dragonstone for you guys. Some of you have wondered about Farring's actions in regards to the last chapter, so you'll get an answer to that just now. Then it's off to get Dany's first POV section, which will be her only POV for the time being (if she reappears it'll be much later on in the story). Then back to Riverrun for a different character's POV. Enjoy.

 **Quick Update:** A reader spotted an error in this chapter so I have quickly edited the paragraph were said error was. It was something that I had somehow overlooked from the previous chapter in regards to when Maege Mormont last saw Jon Snow, so I hope that I've cleared up any confusion. Thanks guys, and enjoy.

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

 **Here We Stand**

* * *

Stannis

He was angry. He had been angry for quite some time. Ever since he had broken his fast this morning he had been angry. He wanted to go straight to King's Landing and tear that incest-born bastard from the Iron Throne; he wanted to kill the woman who has passed the bastard off as his brother's son for the years that he has drawn breath; he wanted to kill the corrupt commander of the Goldcloaks and the fools on the small council; but right now he wanted to throw his foolish wife into the Blackwater Bay and watch her drown for her stupidity. Stannis was stood in the Chamber of the Painted Table at the top of the Stone Drum, the central keep of Dragonstone, where Aegon the Conqueror had planned his conquest of Westeros three-hundred years ago. He was stood looking down at the table, grinding his teeth, as his most trusted man entered the chamber. Looking up at him Stannis saw the older man approach; Ser Davos Seaworth, also called the Onion Knight, had just returned from visiting his wife and youngest sons in Cape Wrath.

"You asked to see me your grace?" he asked. Stannis nodded his head and gestured for him to sit down. Once Davos was sat on a chair across from him Stannis let out a deep breath.

"Of all the people on this island you are probably the only one who does not go behind my back," he told him. Davos just sat patiently and waited for him to continue. "About ten days ago word reached me about the defeat of Tywin Lannister. Defeated by Robb Stark, the heir of Ned Stark of Winterfell." He looked back at Davos who was wide eyed.

"How did he manage that?" he asked.

"By listening to his lords I reckon," Stannis spoke. "He's surrounded by men who love his father, who fought for him during both my brother's war and the Greyjoys attempt at rebellion. He would've listened to them before making any moves. It was from him that I learned of this battle." Stannis leaned over the table and picked up a letter that had been delivered to him ten days ago. "This letter explains that Robb Stark has taken Tywin Lannister prisoner along with his son Tyrion and the boys Willem and Martyn, Tywin's nephews by his brother Ser Kevan." Stannis looked at the letter in his hands before looking back at Davos. "He also writes about wanting me to travel to Riverrun and discuss bringing Joffrey and his mother down." Davos blinked at that.

"Then, begging your pardons your grace, but why are we still here?" he asked. "This is a chance to take your brother's throne with little to no bloodshed. With her father prisoner Cersei Lannister would not do anything to endanger him." Stannis put the letter in his hands down and picked up another one. Davos looked at him with a worried expression.

"This letter comes from Cersei's abomination," he said slowly, "commanding me to send the ships to King's Landing and to aid in recapturing Ned Stark and his daughters who have escaped from under his nose." Stannis snorted, still wondering how the bastard and his mother managed to let that happen. Davos had a smile on his face.

"That is good news as well," he said. Stannis ground his teeth, and crumpled the letter in his hands before hurling it into the nearby hearth.

"And that red woman had seen in her flames that Ned Stark had escaped and what does my wife do when that letter confirms Mellisandre's vision?" he asked staring at Davos, his voice rising. "She sends Godry Farring, GODRY FARRING, to track down Ned Stark and capture, CAPTURE, him and his daughters." Stannis began pacing up the length of the table. "My own wife sends a man who has a habit of goading people into fighting him, to capture a man whose son had just succeeded in bringing about Tywin Lannister's downfall. And if that fool of a knight should actually manage to find Ned Stark and his daughters, it would put a strain on any alliance that I could make with Robb Stark, all because my wife wanted to make sure, and I quote, that the heathen Northman is quickly brought to heel before he can think of supporting Renly." Stannis turned to face Davos then. "Tell me Ser Davos, why would a man like Ned Stark, who is known for his sense of honour, choose to support my younger fool of a brother instead of me when his own honour demands him to support the next in line to the throne, which under the laws of gods and men happens to be me, and not Renly?" Davos cleared his throat then before standing up and walking closer to him.

"He wouldn't support Renly," he said certainly. "As you said, his own honour tells him to support you. And if Ser Godry should manage to catch him you can just explain that he acted without your knowledge or consent." Stannis laughed bitterly at that.

"Without my knowledge or consent Ser Davos?" he repeated. "Why would anyone support a king who doesn't know what his own bannermen are doing, especially if those bannermen act without permission?"

"Even kings need to learn from time to time your grace," Davos answered simply. Stannis ground his teeth in answer to that statement.

"Ser Godry rides with my personal banner Davos," he said. "You've seen it as you came in today I trust?" Davos nodded; he may not be able to read his letters without help, but he knew sigils at least.

"The crowned stag of Baratheon within a fiery heart," he said. "I admit it looks regal. Fearsome even." The former smuggler stepped closer to him. "And it shows your support of her faith." Stannis turned from Davos and walked back to the table.

"We've been over this Davos," he said warningly.

"Aye, we have your grace," he answered, his tone of voice saying that he heard his warning and did not care for it. "You agreed that we would not fight for her religion. The people throughout the land will not take to the red woman's faith if you try to make them convert." Stannis turned to face Davos with a glare. "They will not support you in this. All it will do is make this war a lot worse than it already is."

"My brother has taken command of the forces of the Reach and the Stormlands," Stannis ground out. "He has named himself king, usurping what is rightfully mine by the laws of this land. Robert had given Storm's End to Renly to spite me, and he has always favoured Renly over me, and now Renly has it in his head that he can usurp me without consequence." Stannis looked back to the hearth where he threw the letter. He closed his eyes and thought back to a few days ago, when Mellisandre and Selyse managed to convince him to burn the sept, along with the septon and those foolish enough to try and defend it. Ever since his parents died when their ship was broken apart during a storm on Shipbreaker Bay he has not said a word of any kind to the Seven; he has never prayed to them, so why should he keep the sept? And Mellisandre had promised that R'hllor would aid him in his battle for the Iron Throne. "And now Selyse has sent a man who has fully given himself to the Lord of Light to track down Ned Stark. A man who will insult and goad the Lord of Winterfell into fighting him. Something tells me that he will fail in that task if he hasn't already." Stannis sighed loudly as he sat down on a chair. "That will cost me an ally that I could've used. So I'll need all the help I can get." Davos approached him slowly.

"Your grace, I must protest against embracing the use of the red woman's magic," he said.

"Who built this table Ser Davos?" Stannis asked as he put a hand on the table, interrupting him. Davos looked at him blankly for a moment before he answered.

"Aegon Targaryen," he replied in a confused tone.

"And what did he make this table for again?" Stannis asked.

"To plan his conquest of Westeros," Davos answered.

"And what did Aegon Targaryen have to conquer with?" Davos looked at him with his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Three dragons," he answered slowly.

"Beasts that are magical by their very nature," Stannis said as he leaned closer in his seat. "Aegon Targaryen had only a few thousand men to start with, so he used his dragons to subdue those who refused to bend to him. If Mellisandre's magic helps me to take the Iron Throne then who am I to turn her away?" Davos could not answer him, and Stannis did something that was rare for him to do; he smiled. "I'll take all of the help that I can get, no matter the source." Stannis stood up from the seat and walked over to the other side of the chamber to look out over the Blackwater Bay. "That'll be all Ser Davos," he said when he heard Davos begin to speak again. After a few moments he heard the sound of footsteps behind him until they became too quiet to hear.

He stood there for some time, thinking about how he was going to take what was his. With his younger brother calling himself a king Stannis had a hard enough task ahead of him, and if Farring were to catch up with Ned Stark then it would not be a pleasant situation. He liked Farring as a warrior, but not as a negotiator. Stannis was certain that Selyse had just turned the Starks against them. _Damn my wife_ , he thought. _Must I be cursed with fools and imbeciles who work behind my back? No more, I'll not accept it_. As he stood and thought over what he could do he heard the sound of footsteps again, only these were softer. Stannis knew who it was before he turned to face her.

"Do you wish to give me further advice?" Stannis growled.

"I seek only to help you gain what is rightfully your my king," came the sonorous voice of Mellisandre. "The Onion Knight tried to give you advice I noticed." Stannis turned to face her and nodded his head.

"I am still of the belief that Ser Godry will not succeed," he said as calmly as possible. "It was a mistake for Selyse to send him, and more than a mistake to go behind my back."

"I suggested to Queen Selyse to send one of the more level headed knights to find Lord Stark and bring him to you," she said. Stannis looked at her with narrowed eyes. "I had no idea that she would send that brute to find him, or I would not have suggested it in the first place." Stannis huffed in annoyance.

"You knew and never spoke a word?" he asked bitterly. "It seems that I can't trust you either if you will not speak with me first." Mellisandre just walked closer to him, smiling that seductive smile of hers.

"You don't need Lord Stark to take the Iron Throne," she said as she stopped right in front of him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and brushed her fingers down his doublet. "I have seen what would happen if you turned to him for aid. The fires showed me a great grey wolf guiding a young stag whose antlers had not yet grown fully, guiding him through the snow. And then they approached an older stag, much larger than the younger, and they cornered a lioness and her cubs. The older stag killed the lioness and the first of the cubs, but that cub wounded the stag. As the stag killed the cub, the grey wolf attacked and killed the older stag, and then left the younger stag to prance through the woods and the fields." Stannis found himself shuddering at her words. The stag was the sigil of House Baratheon, and the older stag was him, which meant that the younger stag must have been Renly. The Lannisters wore a lion as their sigil, so the lioness was Cersei and the cubs her bastards by her twin brother. The great grey wolf could only be the Starks, as they bore a grey direwolf upon their white banners. Stannis looked at Mellisandre, who had leaned closer to him, her full breasts in his line of sight. She brought her free hand to her silk dress and curled her fingers around the edge of the dress. "You must go to Storm's End my king," she said in a whisper as her other hand travelled down to his breeches. "Go to Storm's End and lure Renly out. He will come, and he will die there. I have seen it. And when he dies his men will flock to you, and they will fight for their true king." Stannis felt her hand unlacing his breeches while he watched her other hand pull her dress away to reveal her breasts. He wanted to stop her from doing... whatever she was doing, but he felt compelled to let her do what she was doing. He closed his eyes though, and he breathed out slowly to calm himself.

"I swore a vow," he told her as he heard the soft swishing sound of her dress falling from her frame.

"To false gods that you have not believed in for many years my king," she said softly as she pressed her body against his. "You must give yourself to me, and then you will have given yourself to the Lord of Light fully. And when you go to Storm's End, he will let his will be done." Stannis felt her lips pressing against his hollow cheek then, and before he knew what he was doing he had pulled his breeches down just enough and pushed Mellisandre against the painted table. Soon he was in her and thrusting further into her. He was not a man with a passion for women like Robert was, but he knew what to do with women at least. Mellisandre moaned as he pushed himself into her, and while he wished she would not make that sound he felt himself harden as he pushed into her with greater fervour than he had ever had with Selyse.

* * *

Daenerys

Tears ran down her face as she sat down on the ground beneath, her body trembling after being on the run for the last two days. _This isn't happening, this isn't happening_ , she kept repeating in her head. She closed her eyes and tried to will her tears to stop. _This isn't happening_. Her companions had gathered around her, talking to her in Dothraki, worried for her. _This isn't happening_ , Daenerys thought to herself. But it was happening.

After the attempt on her life by the wine merchant, her husband Khal Drogo led his khalasar to pillage the towns of the Lhazareen, a people who make their living as shepherds. Ser Jorah had told her that the Dothraki were attacking the Lhazareen to take them captive as they make good slaves, and selling them as slaves would get them the gold that they need to buy ships to cross the Narrow Sea. The khalasar had pillaged an entire town and were going to attack another when they were attacked by a company of sellswords. The sellswords did not look like they were from Essos, but their accents were strangely familiar to her. She watched as a group of the sellswords fell upon a dozen Dothraki horsemen who had only just got their arakhs drawn, but they were brutally cut down with little effort. It was unreal to her; she had been told of the strength of the Dothraki, and she believed that they would help her retake her father's throne for her son. Now that hope lay in tatters.

The sellswords slaughtered their way through the khalasar, hacking men down with practised ease. Daenerys was frightened by these men, and the few women that she noticed among their numbers. She saw one warrior woman wielding a two-headed axe, slashing at Dothraki with seemingly wild abandon. Daenerys rode with her companions and tried to find her husband. She found him, but it was too late. Drogo was fighting a powerfully built man who held perhaps the largest sword she had ever seen in her life. Drogo swung his arakh at the man, but he was wearing full plate armour; arakhs were not much good against full plate. Drogo's blade struck the side of the sellsword's armour, but the man slammed his armoured arm down to trap his blade, and then he thrust his sword into Drogo's belly. Everything after that was a blur to Daenerys.

Daenerys cried quietly as her companions tried to coax her up to her feet. Irri and Jhiqui were crouching down next to her, one on either side, while Doreah was sat in front of her. The three of them were talking to her, but Daenerys did not hear them. She noticed that Rakharo and Aggo were among her companions, but Jhogo was no longer with them. There were some other Dothraki, but not many. As she sat there Jorah approached her and bent down beside her, gently ushering the other women away.

"Khaleesi," he said softly. Daenerys looked up at him, her eyes red from crying. "I'm sorry." She nodded her head and began to stand up. Jorah helped her to her feet, with Irri and Jhiqui helping as well. Once back on her feet Daenerys put her hands on her swollen belly.

"He'll never know his father," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "He is the last hope of my House." She sniffled loudly, wiping her eyes and looking around at the people who were with her. As she looked at everyone a thought came to her mind. "Where are my eggs?" she asked as she looked back to Jorah. "Where are they?" She looked to her handmaidens, who were looking away from her.

"During our escape," Jorah began, "a group of the sellswords had caught up with us. They nearly caught you, but only managed to take the saddle bag that held your eggs." Daenerys breathed in sharply at that news, her eyes stinging. "Jhogo went back for them, but he was killed by the sellswords. I only realised they had your eggs when I saw one of the sellswords pull one of the eggs out. By that time we were too far away and there were more of them." Daenerys felt her knees buckle beneath her and swayed slightly on her feet. Jorah and Rakharo caught her before she could fall though.

"I need them back," she said. "We have to get them back." No one moved to do anything. Daenerys glared at the men. "They were a gift to me! They are mine, not some sellsword's! I WANT THEM BACK!" Her handmaidens jumped with fright at her tone while Jorah sighed.

"Khaleesi, they are gone," he said, his voice full of sorrow. "The sellswords have them and they will be leaving the area soon if they haven't already." Daenerys leaned against her horse, closing her eyes as the tears fells again.

"Who are they?" she asked. "Who are these men who killed my husband?" She looked up at Jorah, who looked very uncomfortable then. "Ser Jorah?" she urged after a few seconds passed without an answer. Jorah gulped loudly before he looked at her, and then he hung his head in defeat.

"The Company of the Rose," he said. "A company of sellswords descended from exiles."

"Exiles from where?" she asked the man. Jorah stepped closer to her and looked into her eyes.

"The North," he said, and Daenerys felt a clenching feeling in her throat then; the North had been one of the kingdoms to rebel against her father so many years ago. She looked at the Northern knight and took a deep shuddering breath.

"Why were they exiled?" she asked him, and he gave a humourless laugh.

"Theirs is a voluntary exile," he explained. "What I can tell you about them is that they are descended from those who left the North in disgust after Torrhen Stark bent the knee to your ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror. These men and women had been loyal to the Starks when they ruled as Kings in the North, but after the King Who Knelt as Torrhen Stark came to be called had bent his knee these Northmen felt betrayed, and so they left the North and travelled east to Essos, where they have lived as sellswords ever since." Daenerys looked away from Jorah for a moment before turning back to face him.

"They left their homes because they were unhappy that Torrhen Stark gave up his crown?" Jorah nodded. Daenerys snorted as she ran her hands over her belly. "Why do they call themselves the Company of the Rose?"

"Upon their banners they bear a blue winter rose," Jorah answered. "It is a form of rose that can only grow in cold climates, such as in the North. The glass gardens of Winterfell always have blue winter roses all year round. I do not know if this is true or not, but it is said that the exiles were led by Torrhen's second son, the former Prince Edrik Stark, who could not look at his father after he bent the knee. He left, but not before taking a cloth which had a winter rose sewn upon it by his sister. The Company of the Rose has the image of a blue winter rose upon their banners and their clothes so that they have a reminder of where they come from." Daenerys looked away from Jorah after he finished speaking and walked down the road a short distance. She felt cold all of a sudden, and rubbed her arms subconsciously to try and warm them up.

"Khaleesi?" Irri spoke then, her voice full of worry. Daenerys looked back at the Dothraki girl and sighed.

"We are not safe here Irri," she told her in Dothraki. "We need to leave, find somewhere we can be safe." Irri nodded her head as Daenerys stepped closer to her. As she did they heard a faint sound in the distance. She looked back in the direction where they came from and saw in the distance a group of riders far back.

"Khaleesi, we must hide," Jorah said.

"Jorah the Andal?" Rakharo said in broken common tongue. "There is place nearby. We can hide for a time if we quick."

Daenerys and the others followed Rakharo as he led them across the road and eventually into the hills to the north of them. They used well travelled paths before coming upon a stream, where Rakharo led them up to the stream's source. Daenerys found herself looking upon a cave, and was grateful for Rakharo's quick thinking.

"Thank you Rakharo," she said to him as Jorah led her directly into the cave. The small group entered the cave which was thankfully large enough for all of them to fit into comfortably. "Everyone, we must keep quiet while we are in here, or the sellswords will kill us all," she told them.

"We should fight them, not hide like lamb men," one of the men told her. Daenerys was about to speak when Jorah stepped in.

"Those sellswords outnumber us," he told them. "We fight them we will die for nothing." The Dothraki who spoke seemed offended by Jorah's words, but otherwise he kept quiet. They all huddled at the back of the cave except for Jorah and Rakharo, who were kneeling behind rocks at the mouth of the cave to hide themselves as they kept watch outside. It was quiet for half an hour when the sound of horses galloping outside drew Daenerys's attention. The galloping continued for ten minutes or so, until it began to abate. Daenerys walked over to the mouth of the cave and stood beside Jorah.

"Are there many?" she asked softly.

"Khaleesi, you should be back there with the others," he told her. Daenerys gave him a sharp look.

"Are there many?" she asked him again. Jorah sighed before nodding his head.

"About four dozen, just over there," he replied, pointing to where the stream forked off into two different streams about fifty feet away. The sellswords were quite close, and it unnerved Daenerys. The sellswords were all on horseback, and were talking quite loudly.

"I tell you, there's no sign of the Horse Lords," one man barked. "They're long gone."

"Then who were those riders we saw a while ago Harald?" the voice of a woman asked. Daenerys looked at the sellswords that were closest to the cave's mouth; they were maybe twenty feet away from where Daenerys stood, and quite big. The man, Harald, wore mail of some kind and leather armour, and had a longsword on his hip and a quiver of arrows and a longbow as well. The woman however was bigger, with short dark hair coming down to her shoulders and a pair of war axes, one on each hip, as well as a two-headed axe secured on her back. Daenerys realised that this was the same woman that she saw when the sellswords attacked them.

"Travellers who had stopped to rest and then rode hard, probably thinking we were Dothraki," Harald answered. "What does it matter Bera? They're gone." The woman, Bera, spat in response before looking at Harald.

"You saw that man who was with the Dothraki shits, didn't you?" she asked, her voice laced with fury.

"Aye, I saw him," Harald answered. Daenerys leaned closer as the two of them began to ride back to the others.

"Then you know I will not suffer that living insult to the honour of the North," Bera said. Daenerys glanced at Jorah to see him go paler than she had ever seen him before. "The fucker sold poachers to slavers. Fucking slavers!" Daenerys flinched at the woman's tone, and then realised who Bera was talking about.

"Ser Jorah?" she asked the man beside her. "Are they talking about you?" Jorah looked back at her, and the look in his eyes made her shiver.

"Yes Khaleesi," he answered. "They are talking about me." Daenerys remembered talking with Jorah months ago and hearing how he had sold men he caught poaching on his lands instead of taking them to the Wall as he should have done. It was because of that action that he fled Westeros, after receiving word that Lord Stark was coming to execute him.

"I don't care if he is distant kin Harald!" Bera's voice carried back to the cave, startling Daenerys. "He may have the name Mormont, but he's a fucking disgrace to my ancestors! He's a disgrace to all who are descended from the First Men!"

"I understand Bera," Harald spoke, just loud enough for Daenerys to hear. "But he is kin, and old gods or new no man is so accursed as the kinslayer." Bera cackled loudly at her friend's words.

"It isn't kinslaying considering that our shared ancestor goes back three-hundred years ago Harald!" Bera boomed, her voice an angry roar. "And I'll kill that piece of shit myself should I come across him!" The two sellswords rode off so that they were too far for Daenerys to hear them.

"Khaleesi," Jorah spoke up then, almost startling her. "I have to go." Daenerys looked at him, her eyes wide. "They are looking for me. They will not stop until they have my head. I must..."

"No Ser Jorah," Daenerys said, her voice wavering. "I need you here. You're one of the best swordsmen. If you go..."

"HO THERE!" a voice bellowed out, and for a moment Daenerys thought that they had been found. It was not until they looked that they realised that they were still safe for now; another band of sellswords had joined the others. "Why are you lot milling about?" Daenerys had to strain her ears to listen to what was being said.

"Hunting a man who is an insult to my House!" Bera shouted back. Daenerys looked at the man at the head of the new group; he was bald, with a well built figure, and a massive greatsword on his back. He wore full plate armour and had a scowl on his face. "What's it to you Hornwood?"

"Careful Mormont!" Hornwood yelled back. "You're as stupid as the animal that is on your family's banners." Some of the men laughed, while Bera was angered by the remark Daenerys noticed.

"No need for petty insults Ronnel," Harald said with a hand on Bera's arm. "Why are you disturbing Bera's hunt?" Daenerys watched on as Ronnel Hornwood urged his horse closer.

"All hunts are called off," he stated.

"WHAT!?" Bera roared, her face full of frustration.

"This comes from the Lady Marshal herself," Hornwood cut in before Bera could continue. "Firstly, we can tell you that our current contract is at an end. The Khal that Osric Umber killed was indeed Khal Drogo." The gathered sellswords cheered, apart from Bera who Daenerys noticed was still glaring at Hornwood. Daenerys herself felt her chest tightening at the mention of her husband's death.

"Well that's very good and all," Bera began, "but what can be more important than hunting down an honour-less cretin who is a traitor to all who claim descent from the First Men?" Hornwood looked at her, and Daenerys could have sworn that she saw him smile wickedly.

"News from the North," he stated simply, and Daenerys watched as the sellswords all looked at him more intently than before, even Bera. "A messenger arrived a couple of hours ago. It seems that the North has marched off to war once again, only this time the Heir to Winterfell marches to free his father the Lord of Winterfell from captivity." Daenerys heard some mumbling coming from the sellswords then.

"Hang on Ronnel, why has this happened?" someone yelled. "I thought the current Lord Stark was a friend of this Stag King?"

"It seems that the Stag King is dead," Hornwood answered. Daenerys's eyes widened at that revelation. _The Usurper is dead? So there is some justice in this world after all_ , she thought to herself with a slight smile. "Killed during a hunt, and the Stag King's son doesn't seem to want to continue with the friendship between Houses Stark and Baratheon. So war is coming." One of the other sellsword's laughed darkly.

"By the time we get to Braavos to collect our reward for Drogo the war might well be over and done with," the sellsword said.

"Aye Cerwyn," Hornwood said. "But regardless, the Targaryens are no more." Those words made Daenerys angry; she wanted to step out and tell those sellswords otherwise, she wanted them to die in agony for their arrogance, but she knew that it was pointless to even try. There were over fifty sellswords out there, and Daenerys's group numbered less than twenty. "With them gone it may well be time to return home." The sellswords all started to murmur amongst each other.

"But our oath Hornwood," Bera said, her voice not as loud and furious as before. "Our ancestors vowed to never return to Westeros until the main branch of House Stark no longer bows to the Iron Throne. Only then does our exile end."

"True Bera," Hornwood said as he urged his horse closer to her. "But Marshal Erika has decided that it is time to be ready to sail across the Narrow Sea." Hornwood turned his horse around and rode off to the right. "We return to our camp, and once we are all gathered we ride west! To Braavos, and then hopefully to our ancestral homeland!"

The sellswords rode on, following Hornwood as he led the group to wherever they were camped. Daenerys watched them as they disappeared from view, becoming small dots on the landscape. A few minutes after the last sellsword was beyond her line of sight she let out a deep breath that she had not realised that she was holding. Daenerys took a step back and looked over her shoulder at the others. They were still huddled at the back of the cave, mostly quiet apart from one or two of the women who were weeping.

"They have gone," Daenerys told them. "We shall sleep here tonight, and leave tomorrow." One of the men grunted in anger.

"Who put you in charge woman?" he snapped. Daenerys looked sharply at the man, who she noticed had put his hand on the hilt of his arakh. "Khal Drogo is dead, and you are nothing," he said with a sneer, stepping closer to her. Daenerys stepped back, her heart thumping wildly. "You are just another widowed Khaleesi, and your babe is not born yet." The Dothraki drew his arakh and pointed it tip first at her. Daenerys looked back to the mouth of the cave to find Jorah approaching with his longsword drawn, a scowl on his face.

"That's enough Horse Lord," he said, his Dothraki sounding off in his Northern accent. "Put your weapon away, or be ready to die." Daenerys stepped back from the two men, looking at Rakharo who had stepped closer ready to offer help to Jorah. The Dothraki spat in Jorah's direction.

"You did not fight those sellswords," the man replied venomously. "You may as well be one of them. You look similar to them."

"And here I stand. Now put your weapon away," Jorah said again. "Last chance." The Dothraki responded by swinging his arakh at Jorah, who raised his sword and blocked the blow. Daenerys watched as the two men fought each other, with everyone else staying out of the way. Jorah thrust at the man who stepped to the side and swung his arakh above his head and down towards Jorah's armoured back; the blade glanced off of Jorah, who grunted in pain before slashing his sword at his foe, who parried the strike away and punched out at Jorah, striking him on the jaw. From the back of the cave another two Dothraki men ran in to take part in the fight with their arakhs in hand. One went straight for Jorah, swinging wildly at him in a bid to take his head off. The other ran for Daenerys.

"Ser Jorah!" she called out as the man approached with his arakh raised over his shoulder. As he swung another blade intercepted the strike, and Daenerys saw that it was Rakharo who had come to her aid. Rakharo fought the man, pushing him back and slashing at him. Daenerys looked back at Jorah to find him being aided by Aggo who was fighting the second man while Jorah fought the first. As they fought Daenerys felt pain in her belly; it was a slight discomfort that soon became agony. She looked down at the ground and saw that the dirt floor of the cave right beneath her was damp, and she felt a wetness on her thighs. _No_ , she thought. _Not now. It's too early, it must be_.

Daenerys collapsed to the floor as she realised that she was in labour. Her baby was coming, and right now no one could help her. She looked up to see that the six men were still fighting each other, all determined to slay one another. The women were at the back of the cave still, all too frightened by the fighting in front of them. Each time one of the men struck their opponent's weapon Daenerys felt a twinge of pain in her belly. Jorah parried a blow aimed at his thigh, and pain shot out through her belly. Aggo slashed at his opponent's neck only for the man to block with his arakh, and pain shot out through her belly. Rakharo pushed his blade against his opponent's as they locked blades in a struggle to overcome the other, and pain shot out through her belly.

"Irri, Jhiqui!" Daenerys called out, hoping her handmaidens would hear over the sound of steel clashing steel. "Help me! Please!" They did not hear her though. Jorah did, and he renewed his attacks, striking out with more strength and forcing his foe back against the wall of the cave. The Dothraki man was pushed up against the wall and he nearly fell over, and Jorah struck out, slicing the man's right arm off at the elbow before slashing at his neck, severing his head quickly before he could scream out in pain. Jorah rushed over to her then, and knelt down beside her.

"Khaleesi?" he asked, his voice one of worry.

"I need-" a sharp pain interrupted Daenerys as she spoke, and she wailed as it felt like her body was being torn apart. She vaguely heard Jorah shout out to her handmaidens before he stood up. A moment later Irri, Jhiqui and Doreah were all gathering around her, trying to comfort her. Daenerys looked up to where Jorah was, and saw him walking over to Aggo and his opponent. Jorah swung his sword at him, distracting him long enough for Aggo to slam his arakh into his side, carving him nearly in half as the strike sent blood spraying over the ground. A shout of agony drew Daenerys's attention and she turned to look to her left to see Rakharo kicking his foe to the ground, the man's chest slashed open from bottom of ribcage to collarbone.

"Khaleesi?" Irri said worriedly as Daenerys shouted out in pain as a contraction hit her. _Oh gods no, please let my child live, please don't take my son from me_. Another contraction hit her and Daenerys was doubled over, her handmaidens helping her to lay down. _I've lost my sun-and-stars, don't take my son from me too_ , she begged silently, hoping the gods would spare her from more misery.

"We need a midwife, now!" Daenerys heard Jorah snap, even though it sounded like he was so far away.

"Just hold on Khaleesi," Doreah said soothingly. "Everything will be fine." Daenerys hoped that she was right, but a small part of her did wonder if this was to be her end.

 _Please spare my son_...

* * *

Dacey

Dacey sighed as she lay on the bed in the room given to her by the steward at Riverrun. She has had a long day out in the courtyard with some of her men, and it was frustrating not being able to do much with her wounded shoulder. The Maester had been insistent when he told her to take it easy for a couple of weeks to allow the wound to heal properly, but she really did not understand why; Dacey has taken worse injuries in the past, and she did not take it easy then, so why should she start now? _Bloody soft hearted Southrons_ , she thought with a snigger. However much Dacey wanted to train properly with her men, Robb had backed the Maester up and told her to rest the shoulder for at least a week before training again.

"You're no good to us if you can't swing your mace without screeching in pain Dacey," he had told her, much to the amusement of his friend Theon. As much as she liked Robb she could barely stand his friend; the Greyjoy heir was always speaking to her as if she were some tavern wench or brothel slut desperate for a man's member being shoved between her thighs. Dacey agreed to step back from training for a week, but no more than that. She was bored to tears as a result of not being able to train with her men. To Dacey there was nothing better than practising her combat skills. _And a decent fuck too_ , she thought as she let her mind wander off to a few years ago.

Back when her cousin Jorah was still the Lord of Bear Island, Dacey had given her virtue to a strong looking fellow who had travelled on a ship that had sailed up from Oldtown in the Reach. The man was from one of the Free Cities and was a guard under the employ of the merchant who owned the ship. At the time Dacey had been wanting to travel as she was still just the firstborn daughter of the aunt of the Lord of Bear Island. The man who was simply called Boar, who stood six foot tall (the same height as Dacey) and had broad shoulders and a muscular build, had taken an interest in her on the second day that the merchant was at Bear Island. The ship stayed there for ten days, and for most of those ten days Dacey had trained alongside this man. He was nice, polite, but did not hold back just because she was a woman. Dacey liked him a lot, and on the eighth day that the merchant was there Dacey and Boar rode through the woods, were they stumbled across four wildlings. That was the first time that Dacey had ever killed someone, and she killed three of the wildlings while Boar had only killed one, but had been wounded in return.

After the skirmish she led him to a nearby cave where she dressed the cut on his arm, and the two of them spoke about their childhoods. Before she even realised what she was doing Dacey had kissed Boar, and then he pinned her to the floor of the cave and peppered her face and lips with soft kisses. That had surprised her, given how hard he fought even while only sparring. A minute later they were both frantically taking their clothes off and then Boar was deep inside her, rocking his hips hard into her, driving her wild with lust. It was painful to start with, but Dacey had enjoyed it. An hour later they were pulling their clothes back on before riding back to the keep, where they explained that they had killed wildlings and decided to patrol the woods just in case there were anymore of them. After that Dacey slept peacefully, and dreamed of Boar that night. The next morning she walked over to him in the courtyard of Mormont Keep where he was standing about doing nothing, and they snuck off for the rest of the day, where they rode around the island that was her home and made fierce love whenever they stopped. That was the ninth day.

The tenth and last day was the day that her life changed. The merchant was not meant to leave for another three days, but as Dacey woke up she looked up to see her mother at the door. Maege Mormont had told her to get dressed into her mail and leather and get her mace. Ten minutes later she and her mother were mounting their horses, and Maege told her that her cousin was wanted by Lord Stark for selling men into slavery. Dacey was shocked by this, and did not believe it to begin with. The two of them rode on after Jorah and his dolt of a wife, Lynesse Hightower, who were last seen riding for the merchant's ship. Dacey and her mother got there with time to spare, and one look at her cousin told Dacey all she needed to know; he was fleeing from justice, he _had_ sold free men into slavery. Dacey was distraught, and rode headlong towards her foolish cousin, who she had looked up to fondly as a child, and drew her mace. It was then that Boar stepped into her path, and the two fought for a few minutes, neither giving ground until Dacey smashed her mace into Boar's left thigh before following up with a hard swing into the top of his head. When Boar dropped dead Dacey looked to the side to see that her mother had just killed the men sent to stop her, and when they both looked at the ship it was already sailing away, with Jorah onboard.

Dacey was utterly heartbroken that day; her cousin, who she had loved as a sister loves a big brother, had brought shame upon House Mormont in an unforgivable manner, and the man she had given her virtue to had died by her hand. Dacey returned to her rooms in Mormont Keep and locked herself away, where she wept like a little girl. She stayed there for a night and a day, until her mother threatened to knock the door off of its hinges. Dacey let her mother in and for the first time since she was a young child she wept into her mother's arms; she let her feelings out and revealed her tryst with Boar to her. Instead of getting angry as Dacey had expected Maege had just held her close to her and soothed her as she did when she was very young. That evening Maege had returned to her rooms with a cup filled with moon tea.

"You can drink it or not Dacey," Maege Mormont told her in a gentle motherly tone, which was very unusual for her to do with her older daughters. "It's up to you my girl. I won't tell you what to do now, but remember this; with Jorah gone and no men of our House left, I am now the ruling Lady of Bear Island, and you are now the heir. Any sons you have will inherit after you, the question is, do you want a son now or later?" Swallowing her tears Dacey drank the moon tea, deciding that she would rather have a son from a man who was worthy of her.

That was five years or so ago now, and since then Dacey has not shed a tear for any reason. She took to her duties as heir quickly, and trained regularly with her mother and sisters as well as the Mormont guards. A week after Jorah's flight Lord Stark arrived with his oldest son, his heir Robb, who was a lad of ten then. It was the first time she had seen Lord Stark's son since he and his half-brother Jon Snow were infants settling in to Winterfell a few months after Robert's Rebellion ended. Dacey and her mother and sisters greeted Lord Stark who had arrived with his sword Ice, ready to carry out the King's Justice. Lord Stark was angry that Jorah had escaped, but he did not lay any blame on Dacey or the rest of her family. He stayed at Bear Island for three days, and Dacey had spent some time with young Robb, who she remembered looked up to her with awe back then. After they left Dacey fell into the routine that has been her life for the last five years.

Over the last five years she has only had one other man; a fisherman named Kenet, who served as a soldier during the Greyjoy Rebellion. Kenet had trained alongside Dacey one afternoon three years ago when he came to train at Mormont Keep's training yard, which was something he did quite regularly; he said it was to make sure he knew how to swing a sword if he ever got the call to arms again. For a month Dacey got to know him, and she felt a slight attraction to Kenet, which ended with her sharing his bed one night. They met up frequently for nearly a year until a band of wildlings raided Bear Island, and the guards marched out to meet them with Dacey among them. The day after the fighting Dacey found Kenet lying face down in the water with his throat slit from ear to ear. Dacey was upset, but did not cry over his death; he was old and by his own admittance past his prime. Dacey knew from their conversations over the months they had been together that he had been married but had never had children, so she knew that she would never bear the man's children, but despite that Dacey had cared for him.

After Kenet she decided to not lay with another man until she met someone who would accept her and sire children with her, which was easier said than done as most men she met who would be suitable for marriage did not accept her martial lifestyle. She decided long ago that she would marry before bearing children, unlike her sister Alysane who had first gotten pregnant outside of wedlock nearly ten years ago. Alysane was pregnant with Bera at the same time that their mother was pregnant with Lyanna, Dacey's youngest sister. Dacey remembered hearing her mother raging not because her daughter was pregnant and unmarried but because she was pregnant at the same time as her. Dacey and Lyra had laughed while Jorelle was too confused to understand what was going on. While Dacey and her youngest sisters would fall quiet whenever their mother raged, Alysane did not, for she was more like their mother than the others. That day Mormont Keep shook with the sounds of two pregnant ladies screaming angrily at each other. It was quite a funny scene looking back on it, but at the time it was anything but funny.

After laying down lazily on the bed Dacey huffed in annoyance and sat up, looking around the room to try and figure out what to do. Dacey hated not doing anything, and she had not brought any books with her. The only thing she brought from Bear Island was the blanket that she had been working on for Beron, her nephew by Alysane. He would be two soon, and Dacey thought that it would be nice to do something for him. He was too young for a sword or mace, and far too little for his first shirt of chainmail. Reaching over to her travel bag Dacey decided to inspect the blanket; she took it out and unfolded the blanket, looking at the bear that she had sewed on. It was almost complete, she just needed to sew on the left leg of the black bear sigil of her House and it would be finished. As Dacey looked into her bag to find the box with her sewing kit there was a loud banging on the door.

"Enter!" she called out in a huff. Of all the people in the North there was only one person who knocked on a door like that. The door swung open and Smalljon Umber stood there with a small smile.

"Not interrupting I hope?" he said in a jesting tone. Dacey gave him a quick frown.

"If you had waited another minute then I'd be throwing the nearest object within reach into your ugly mug Umber," she retorted. Smalljon just laughed at her.

"I'll get you eventually," he said with a grin. Smalljon has been trying to disturb her at what would be an inconvenient moment for her ever since Dacey walked in on him to drag him to council while he had been enjoying himself with a camp follower. That had been weeks ago just before Robb decided to march past the Twins. "Anyway, a few of us are gathering for drinks in the hall. Robb though you might want to join us." Dacey looked at her friend and sighed in annoyance; she really wanted to finish the blanket, but the idea of having a few drinks was more appealing.

"Damn you Umber," she said as she put the blanket away, rolling it up before putting it into her bag. "Well, I'd rather have mead than prick my fingers again," she said as she stood up from her bed and walked up to the door. Of all the things that Dacey was good at, sewing was not one of them. As she closed and locked the door behind her she looked back at Smalljon. "Why is Robb not here if he wanted me to join?" she asked. Smalljon looked at her with a raised brow.

"What, are we missing our wee wolf, are we?" he teased. Dacey swatted her good arm at him, but he stepped out of the way just in time.

"Oh yes, I'm terribly offended that he would not ask me himself if I fancied a drink," she said in a mocking tone, making both of them laugh.

"Well Robb was on his way, but Maester Vyman told him that there was a raven from Harrenhal not that long ago requiring his attention," Smalljon answered. Dacey nodded her head then.

Fifteen minutes later the two of them were sitting down at a table in the great hall with a cup each of mead. At the same table as them were Ser Wylis Manderly and his brother Ser Wendel (who were tucking into their dinner), Harrion Karstark and his surviving brother Torrhen (whose father was busy praying in the godswood of Riverrun), Galbart Glover and his younger brother and heir Robett, and Robin Flint of one of the three branches of House Flint (Dacey cannot remember which branch he is from). The nine of them raised their cups for a quick toast and then they got lost in their conversations. After a short while Robin and Smalljon began to sing 'The Winter Maid', with Torrhen and Robett joining in after the first verse; then they sang 'Wolves in the Hills' and then 'Black Pines' before looking to Dacey to join in.

"I'm only good at singing the tavern songs lads," she said to Harrion and Torrhen, who just laughed.

"There must be a song you can do some justice to?" Harrion asked. Before she could answer Robin interrupted.

"How about 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair'?" he suggested. A couple of the others cheered in agreement. Dacey glared at the Flint lordling before looking back at the rest of the table.

"You really don't want me to sing that," she said. "I only sing that when I'm royally drunk, and then again only if I've no intention of being seen in the place where I sing that song for at least a year." The Manderly brothers both laughed at that while Smalljon had a look of disappointment.

"There must be something you can sing?" one of the Riverlords from a nearby table shouted over. Dacey glared at the table, but the offending lord kept their head low. At that moment the bard who had arrived at Riverrun a few days ago shouted at the top of his lungs to draw everyone's attention.

"My good lords and sers and ladies!" he called out. "While the good Warrior Lady of Bear Island thinks of a song that she could sing without butchering, which I gather she is concerned about doing, how about I sing a good song that anyone can enjoy?" The hall fell silent as the bard strummed his lute and cleared his throat. "Does anyone have any objections to 'The Dornishman's Wife'? I know I certainly wouldn't object to such an exotic lady." The men in the hall laughed loudly at the bard's jape before falling silent again. After a few moments the bard began to play his lute, building up to the song before he finally started to sing.

 _"The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun, and her kisses were warmer than spring._

 _But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel, and its kiss was a terrible thing._

 _The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed, in a voice that was sweet as a peach,_

 _But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own, and a bite sharp and cold as a leech._

 _As he lay on the ground with the darkness around, and the taste of his blood on his tongue,_

 _His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer, and he smiled and he laughed and he sung,_

 _'Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done, the Dornishman's taken my life,_

 _But what does it matter, for all men must die, and I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!'"_

The bard sang the song slowly from beginning to end, and many within the hall began to sing along with him at the end, even Dacey who sung quietly. Once he was done everyone cheered and started to request songs from him, and Dacey was quite glad for that. After he had finished singing his second song Dacey stood up and left the hall, walking outside to get some fresh air. She walked out to the courtyard where it was quieter but also a little bit chilly, not that Dacey minded that. As she walked she saw Lord Dondarrion sat down on a bench not far from her drinking from a wine skin. Deciding to keep the man company Dacey walked over to the Stormlord, who looked deep in thought.

"Lord Dondarrion," she called out to him. The man turned his head to look at her and gave her a kind smile.

"My Lady Mormont," he began, rising to give her a bow. "Are you well?" he asked her.

"Better now I've had a couple cups of mead," she said. "Why are you out here? I'd have thought that you would be with your squire Edric?" The lord gave her a sad smile in answer.

"After my last two battles I don't think I am worthy of sharing drinks with your fellow Northmen," he answered. "Twice I swore to a Northern lord, a Stark no less, to bring an enemy down, and twice I have failed. Lord Robb probably detests me for my failure." Dacey snorted in response to that.

"Lord Robb detests the Lannisters for invading his grandfather's lands," she said. "He detests the Boy King for imprisoning his father under false charges. He despises the boy's mother for trying to intimidate him with threats." She stepped closer to Dondarrion and sat down on the bench next to where he had sat. "But he does not detest you my lord. If anything he was impressed with you." Now it was Dondarrion's turn to snort.

"Was he?" he asked as he sat back down, his voice uncertain. "'Tis hard to tell with the way he looks at people." Dacey sniggered at that remark.

"My mother says that is a Stark trait," she told him. "Starks often give that look when dealing with an unfamiliar lord. That goes doubly so for Southrons." After saying that Dacey grimaced. _You're always saying something stupid in front of those of the south woman. Well done_ , she chastised herself. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that," she said, only to receive a laugh from Dondarrion.

"It's quite alright my lady," he said as he turned to look at her. Dacey rolled her eyes in annoyance at the use of her title. "Is something wrong my lady?" Dacey scoffed at the question before facing him, trying not to look annoyed.

"My mother is the lady, I'm just her heir," she stated. "I'd prefer you to either use my House name or my given name my lord." Dondarrion just looked at her, bringing his wine skin up to his mouth.

"Why is that my lady?" he asked. Dacey huffed in annoyance.

"Because I..." she began until she saw the smirk from the Stormlord. "Oh very funny Dondarrion," she snapped. The man laughed, a deep rumbling laugh that was infectious. They laughed for a minute before calming down. After a moment Dondarrion sighed and looked up to the evening sky.

"Do you have much in the way of family?" he asked her. Dacey looked at the man, who just looked up at the sky.

"Four younger sisters and my mother," she answered. "My uncle, who serves at the Wall as the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. And my idiot cousin Jorah, who fled after disgracing our House." She kept quiet for a moment to give Dondarrion a chance to respond.

"No brothers?" he asked next. Dacey chuckled.

"I wouldn't be the heir if I had brothers," she said.

"Ah, of course," he said with a chuckle. "I've no siblings, but I have two cousins from my uncle. Both have coveted Blackhaven for years, hoping that I would die in tourneys or while dealing with bandits or troublesome Dornish criminals. Just yesterday I got a message from a rider from the Stormlands." Dondarrion paused before taking a deep breath. "'Get your arse back home and pledge us to King Renly, or one of us will take your position as Lord of Blackhaven' they said." Dacey looked at him and shook her head.

"That's a foul thing to do to kin," she said.

"Aye it is," he replied. "But that is the way of things in the south. The elder of my cousins is already married with a son of his own, while the younger seeks fame and glory, hoping that will get him recognised. Plus they both see me as unfit due to my choice of betrothed." Dacey looked at him in confusion then.

"What does that have anything to do with it?" she asked. Dondarrion looked at her then with a sombre look.

"Blackhaven is situated in the Dornish Marches, along the Stormlands' southern border with Dorne," he said. "My betrothed is Allyria of House Dayne of Starfall." Dacey understood him after that; a lord of the southern Stormlands marrying a Dornish lady would be like a Bear Islander marrying an Iron Islander. There would be too much resentment on either side. "My squire is my betrothed's nephew, and Edric is the future Lord of Starfall, assuming his father still lives. Lord Dayne has been ill as of late, and not expected to make a recovery." Dacey sighed when Dondarrion finished speaking then.

"I can see why your cousins would resent you," she said. "But I can see the benefits to marrying a Dornish lady, it should lead to better relations with Dorne, in theory. But to make a demand like that? That is not honourable, not in the slightest." Dondarrion snorted in agreement.

"Do you ever compete with your sisters?" he asked her.

"Aye, frequently," she said honestly. "But our competing is always friendly, we never try to hurt each other. And on the very rare occasions that we do, our mother sorts us out. Severely." Dondarrion gave her a small smile at that.

"I wish I had such a good relationship with my kin like that," he said. Dacey smiled back at him.

"Maybe when you and Lady Allyria marry you can raise your sons and daughters to have a better relationship than what you've had with your cousins?" she suggested. Dondarrion smiled at her, taking a swig from his wine skin.

"Maybe," he said. Before Dacey could speak she heard someone walking over to them. She turned her head to see Smalljon's father, the Greatjon, stomping over.

"Lord Robb wants everyone inside now," he said with the widest smile Dacey has seen from him in a long time. "We've got some good bloody news for a change."

Dacey and Dondarrion followed the Lord of Last Hearth as he led them back inside the hall in Riverrun. Dondarrion walked off to the right to join his squire and the men of his warband while Dacey walked to the left to join Smalljon and the others at their table. Dacey took her seat and looked across at Harrion, who now had his father sat beside him.

"Harrion, what's going on?" she asked. He looked back at her and shook his head.

"I've asked my father, but he's staying tight lipped," he responded. Lord Rickard looked over his shoulder at his eldest son before looking at Dacey. He looked a little bit better than he had done after learning about the death of his son Eddard, but his beard still looked untidy.

"Good news from Ser Helman," was all he said before looking back to the front. Dacey looked up to see Robb was stood beside his uncle and mother, with the Blackfish and the Greatjon stood on either side of him. After a moment the Greatjon bellowed out to the hall.

"ALRIGHT YOU SHITS, QUIETEN DOWN!" His voice echoed around the hall for quite a while before it became quiet enough that Dacey could hear a pin drop on the opposite side of the hall from her. Once the hall was quiet Robb stepped closer to the table and leaned his hands down on it.

"My lords and ladies!" Robb called out. "We have had some good news reach us today. Word from the Vale is that some of the lords have declared their intent to march out against the orders of my lady aunt, who had denied her lords from marching to join us. Lord Royce of Runestone has said that with the news of Tywin Lannister's defeat and capture those lords who had supported Lady Arryn in her stance of staying neutral have begun to side with the Houses who wish to join our campaign and aid us." There was murmuring around the hall then, as some of the older lords who fought beside the knights from the Vale voiced their support of this decision. "But that is not the best news," Robb continued with a slight smile. Dacey leaned in closer upon hearing that, wondering what could be better than that. "Ser Helman Tallhart and Lady Maege Mormont have both added their signatures to this letter to verify the authenticity of the letter, which was written with my lord father's writing and signature." There was a stunned silence then, and it seemed that everyone was beyond surprised at this news. "My father and sisters have managed to escape from King's Landing," Robb's voice boomed, and Dacey could tell that her friend and future liege lord was very happy with this news. "They are on their way to Riverrun as we speak."

With those final words spoken, every person within the great hall began to cheer at the news. Dacey felt elation upon hearing that Lord Stark was riding for Riverrun with his daughters. Dacey knew that Lady Stark would be thrilled to be reunited her husband and daughters, and the direwolf named Nymeria would be overjoyed to be returned to her mistress. As the lords of the North and the Riverlands cheered and shouted out with glee, Dacey heard the familiar sound of Grey Wind howling loudly over the crowd. Soon both of the direwolves were howling, and the hall was filled with the sounds of delight and joy as the song of wolves echoed throughout Riverrun.

Soon there was space cleared out on the floor and everyone proceeded to drink and dance as their hearts were lifted after the cost of the last few days. Many of the wounded men from the battle of the camps had died from their injuries, including Lord Bolton who had lost far too much blood after being wounded by the Kingslayer (although in truth few mourned his passing). But the sorrow of their losses had been replaced with the joy of the news that their liege lord was free from false imprisonment, and Dacey would go to bed that night drunk, with her legs sore from dancing and a wide smile on her face; the Lannisters were now pretty much finished, and while the coming war may well be far from over, victory for the North was pretty much assured. As she flung herself on her bed, Dacey could not help but giggle as she thought about the words of both her House, and her liege lord's House.

 _Winter is coming for the Lannisters,_ she thought, _and here we stand ready to destroy them_.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I took a few liberties with this chapter as you may have gathered.

We really have no idea about the background of the Company of the Rose other than they are descended from men and women from the North who chose exile after Torrhen Stark bent the knee. So this is my own personal take on them for this story, and I can see a disgruntled son or other relative of Torrhen leading the exiles. They will return to this story later on.

Also I fleshed out the backstory of Dacey Mormont in this chapter. We really don't know anything about Dacey's past or what she has or has not done before the start of A Song of Ice and Fire. Some folk might not like the fact that she has had a couple of lovers in the past in my fic, but I find it plausible for her to have been with a man at least once in her life before the start of canon events. Her mother and younger sister have had men so why not? We'll have more from Dacey's POV in this story, and possibly a romance which I have yet to decide upon (and no I'm not gonna ask you guys to sway me with this decision).

Next chapter will have the reunion at Riverrun with Ned and family as well as the truth about Jon being revealed. The chapter after that (chapter 8) will be I can tell you entirely from Robb's perspective. See ya next time guys.


	7. Reunions And Revelations

**Author's Note:** As you can probably guess by the chapter title, Ned and family get reunited, and the truth of Jon's birth comes out. I don't feel that this is my best chapter, but I can't quite think of doing it any other way. So regardless, I hope you like it.

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

 **Reunions And Revelations**

* * *

Jon

Jon stood beside his father as they crossed the water through the water gate of Riverrun, with Arya and Sansa sat behind them on the boat. Just behind them and off to their left was the boat that was transporting Grenn, Pyp, Sam and Ghost, while to their right was the boat with Lady Mormont and some of her men. He was a little bit nervous of coming here, for this was the childhood home of Lady Stark. It had been days since Jon and his companions found his father and sisters being threatened by men sworn to Stannis Baratheon, and days since learning the truth about Joffrey and his siblings. That truth had been a complete shock to him and the others; Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen were not the children of King Robert Baratheon but instead the children of his wife Queen Cersei and her twin brother Jamie Lannister. _Bastards born out of incest_ , he thought. _I knew there was something off about Joffrey, but never did I expect that_.

After saving his father and sisters and learning that awful truth Jon and the others followed Lady Mormont and her men to Harrenhal. When the ruin of a castle had come into view Sam just could not shut up about its history, from when it was being constructed to when Aegon and his dragons burned it, killing all those within. Jon had to smirk as Grenn and Pyp rolled their eyes in boredom. Sam was quite happy though, which gave Jon a reason to smile. During their stay at Harrenhal Jon had told his father about Sam and why he had been sent to the Wall in the first place. Eddard was quite angry that a lord would give up on his son like that and send them away somewhere where they would likely perish. After that he promised Jon to find Sam work back at Winterfell if he decided to go with them. While they were at Harrenhal Jon and Arya wandered around the old castle with Sam, learning what they could about the place and having some fun while they were at it.

Eddard had sent a raven to Riverrun telling them that he and the girls were fine and on their way, as well as telling them that Jon was with them. It was for that reason that Jon was nervous; he had heard that Lady Stark was there as well as Robb and Theon. Still he was eager to see his brother and even, to his surprise, the Ironborn heir. As their boat passed under the gate Jon saw people gathering nearby; Lady Stark was stood at the front, with eyes only for her husband and daughters; next to her with auburn hair and looking to be in his mid-twenties was a man Jon thought to have been her brother Ser Edmure, the Heir to Riverrun; stood behind him was a giant of a man with dark hair and a sigil of a roaring giant breaking its chains, which must have been Lord Umber; and with Grey Wind at his side and sporting a beard much like their father, only auburn in colour rather than dark brown, was Robb, who looked like a true Lord of Winterfell in that moment.

"Make room there," one of the guards of Riverrun called out from nearby, and a small group of men moved out of the way of where the boats were to land. Their boat stopped as it came to dry ground, with the other two boats stopping shortly after.

"Amazing," Sam said, his voice giddy with childlike wonder. "The ancient seat of House Tully, given to them roughly a thousand years ago for their service to one of the many petty kings of the Riverlands. It was the Tullys who were first to declare for Aegon Targaryen three-hundred years ago, rising up against Harren the Black and his House. For helping to lay siege to Harrenhal and being first to declare for the Targaryens House Tully were made the Lords Paramount of the Riverlands." Jon looked across to him and noticed that Grenn and Pyp were looking at him with their usual looks of disinterest.

"How do you know that?" Grenn asked him. Jon watched as Sam struggled out of the boat.

"I read about it..."

"In a book," Grenn and Pyp cut in at the same time. Jon sniggered at his friends before he turned to help Sansa out of the boat while his father got out after passing an indignant Arya to a Riverrun guardsman (who had to struggle with Arya squirming in his arms). Ghost padded alongside him before bounding off to greet Grey Wind, while Jon followed his father and sisters from behind. He looked up and saw Catelyn looking at his father with nothing but pure relief, her eyes brimming with tears of joy.

"Oh Ned," she said when he was a couple of feet away, throwing her arms around his shoulders and pulling him tight against her. Eddard wrapped his arms around her and murmured into her ear. After a few moments they broke up and Catelyn walked up to Sansa, who ran into her mother's arms, followed by Arya who Catelyn brought into their embrace. Eddard meanwhile approached Robb, and the two embraced each other, Robb letting out a deep breath as he did Jon noticed. When they stepped apart after a few moments Lord Umber approached with his arms held out to either side, laughing boisterously.

"Welcome back Ned," he said loudly. "I knew those Southron shits couldn't keep you locked up for bloody long. What took you so long to get out of there anyway?" Jon heard his father laughing in response to his bannerman.

"It took Robb's victory over Tywin Lannister and a few other things to make Lord Varys come to his senses and free me," Eddard answered. As he spoke Catelyn released her daughters who then ran up to Robb, who hugged them both. As Robb hugged the girls Catelyn approached Jon, her face neutral as always when regarding him but her eyes lacking the usual coldness that she normally would have.

"Jon," she said, her voice strained as if it took great difficulty to speak with him. In the next moment she closed the gap between them and put her hand on his arm. It took Jon a moment to realise that she was patting his arm in an almost affectionate manner. "I hear I have you to thank for saving my husband and daughters after they were attacked by men loyal to Lord Stannis?" Jon bowed his head briefly before looking back up to her.

"That is right my lady," he said, feeling nervous despite the praise he was receiving (or maybe because of it). He noticed that Robb and the others were looking at them, and he wondered what they could be thinking. But none of them would be as shocked as he was with Catelyn's next words.

"Thank you Jon, for looking after your father and sisters and bringing them back to me," she said, and then she turned and walked to Eddard. Jon was stunned by what had just happened. _Did Lady Stark actually just do that_? he wondered. As he stood there dumbfounded Robb approached him, a wide smile adorning his face.

"Snow," he said with warmth. Jon looked at him and smiled back.

"Stark," he replied, before they both laughed and hugged each other. They stood back from each other after a couple of seconds, with Robb looking Jon up and down.

"Might not be with the Watch now, but you're still in black," Robb said. Jon smirked.

"I told you before, black was always my colour," he responded. As they chuckled Jon heard the sound of a direwolf barking, thinking that Grey Wind was coming to greet him, until he looked at Arya whose eyes lit up.

"NYMERIA!" she shouted before running up to her direwolf, the two colliding with each other and falling into the dirt, Arya laughing as they rolled around. Jon looked across at Sansa and saw that even though she smiled she had a slight look of pain in her eyes; he remembered then that their father had to kill Lady, Sansa's direwolf, at the Queen's command after Arya sent Nymeria away to save her after she attacked Joffrey. Jon looked back to Robb who was laughing at Arya and Nymeria's antics.

"Nymeria walked into my mother's tent a few days before we arrived at Riverrun," he explained. "She stayed next to her for the whole trip after that, only leaving mother's side once we were inside Riverrun." Jon smiled at that. "She's been terrorising the staff here ever since," Robb said with a laugh as he turned to face him.

"So tell me Robb," he began as they walked over to Sam, who was busy looking around at the walls of Riverrun. "How in the seven hells did you get Tywin Lannister into a position where you could destroy his host and take him alive?" Robb looked at his feet for a moment before sighing.

"Sheer dumb luck I guess," he said. "That and help with planning the trap from my great-uncle, Ser Brynden Tully. Lords Bolton and Karstark gave some useful tips as well, and after managing to calm down those who were against the idea, such as Greatjon and Lady Mormont, it was pretty easy. Then the actual battle started." Jon looked at Robb then and saw a faraway look in his eyes. "Never thought just how hard it would actually be. I had twenty-thousand men march with me from the North, and lost just over twelve-hundred. I left twelve-thousand at Harrenhal, as you probably gathered when you were there, and took about five-thousand with me on the march over here." Robb took a deep breath then and turned to face him. "A third of those men were either killed or wounded badly enough to take them out of the fight for a while." Robb shook his head then, rubbing his forehead with his hand. "Half of the Riverlands forces were killed during the battle of the camps just outside Riverrun. It would have been a different story if we got the Kingslayer away and either killed or taken captive, but..." Robb trailed off, and Jon nodded his head.

"No point speculating the what ifs," he said, making Robb chortle.

"Aye," he replied. He then looked to his right and frowned. "Who are these three?" Jon looked to his friends and waved them closer.

"Robb, these are some friends that I made while at the Wall," Jon said. "Grenn is the big lad furthest from us, next to him is Pyp, the skinny one, and this one right here is Sam Tarly." Jon looked at his friends. "Grenn, Pyp, Sam, this is my brother, Robb Stark, the Heir to Winterfell." His friends greeted Robb who shook their hands.

"It's good to meet you," Robb said before looking at Jon with a slight curve of his lips. "I'm glad that you inspire such loyalty Jon. The Watch must have been angry that you took three men with you as you left." Grenn chuckled gruffly at that.

"The Watch was not as pissed off as we were when they named Jon to the stewards instead of the rangers," he said. "Me and Pyp didn't start off on good terms with your brother milord, but after a while some of us looked up to him. We even got him to help train us seeing as he's a better swordsman than the likes of Thorne." Robb frowned at the mention of the name, as if trying to think on where he heard the name before.

"Uncle Benjen would've spoken of him once or twice," Jon elaborated. "Thorne is the master-at-arms of Castle Black, and he has an unpleasant manner about him. It was him who no doubt had me assigned to the stewards in retaliation for me helping Sam here."

Jon spoke with Robb about his time at Castle Black, the friends he made up there and everything about Sam, from why he was sent to the Wall to some things about his past that Sam had no problems with talking about, and finally they talked about how Jon left the Wall with the others and how they were relieved that Lord Commander Mormont had sent word ahead to Winterfell as they were leaving. As they spoke they walked into the great hall and sat down at one of the tables, and Robb told them about how they took Riverrun as well as more details about the Humbling of the Lion. After that they spoke about what Jon and the others learned from their father in regards to Joffrey and his siblings.

"Incest?" Robb stated, shocked by the news.

"Aye," Jon said as he nodded his head. "Father said it was while speaking with the girls that Sansa and Arya had said something about Joffrey being more lion than stag. After sending them out father looked at a book that had the details of all the Great Houses of Westeros, from Houses Stark and Tully, to Houses Lannister and Baratheon. Father said that one of the things he noticed was that every child born to a Baratheon parent had black hair and blue eyes, trueborn and bastard alike. Except for King Robert's children by Cersei, who have golden hair and green eyes." Robb reached for his cup and brought it up to his mouth.

"It could easily just have been that the Lannister blood is stronger than the Baratheon blood," he said before sipping his drink.

"I said the same," Jon conceded. "Then father pointed out that King Robert has bastard children running about the realm. All of them it seems have black hair, and blue eyes." Jon now took a swig from his cup while Robb just shook his head, breathing out slowly as he thought about what he has just been told.

"Well now, that puts us on the spot," he said after a minute. "With Stannis Baratheon having sent men to capture father and the girls, and Renly still not replying to my letter himself, who do we support?" Jon looked at his brother in confusion.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, with Tommen not being a Baratheon..." Robb began before Jon cut in.

"No, I meant what do you mean by not replying to your letter?" he corrected. Robb took a moment to answer, and when he did he reached into one of his pockets.

"Renly's good-father Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, sent this letter in response to mine," he said as he passed the letter over to Jon. "I sent letters out to both of King Robert's brothers as well as to Highgarden, Sunspear, Pyke and the Eyrie, letting the lords and ladies of those strongholds know about what happened east of the Green Fork. Lord Tyrell is the only one to reply to me so far." Jon opened the letter and read its contents.

 **To Robb Stark, the Heir to Winterfell,**

 **We are quite pleased to have heard of your glorious victory over the Lion of Casterly Rock and congratulate you in humbling the Lannisters. No doubt it would have been quite the sight to see Lord Tywin fall as he did.**

 **However while we are pleased by this news I must inform you that I do not approve of your demand to ride out to Riverrun to attend a meeting with you. As you are quite young, only fifteen so I am told, I shall let this slide. But next time when seeking an audience with your King it is prudent for you to seek him out and not summon him as if he were a mere servant.**

 **Yours cordially,**

 **Mace of the House Tyrell**

 **Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches, High Marshall of the Reach, Warden of the South and Hand of the King**

After reading the letter Jon felt a surge of anger at the southern lord. _Arrogant fool_ , he thought. _What right does he have to respond like that to anyone in such a manner_? Jon sighed as he passed the letter back to Robb.

"Did you send letters to anyone else?" he asked, to which Robb nodded his head.

"Mother suggested sending word out to other places as well, such as Runestone, the seat of House Royce, and Blackhaven, Lord Dondarrion's seat," he answered. "Lord Dondarrion's cousins sent a message to him, but have not responded to me yet. I do not know if Lord Royce got my letter but I have gotten word that some of the Vale Houses are mobilising their forces." Jon perked up at that, and was about to speak when their father cut in.

"Which Houses Robb?" Eddard asked. Sam and the others quickly stood up and bowed while Jon and Robb just stood up and looked at him.

"House Royce of Runestone and their vassal Houses of Coldwater, Tollet and Shett of Gull Tower," Robb started, "House Waynwood and their vassal House Hardyng also muster their levies, along with Houses Hunter, Redfort, Belmore, Waxley, Upcliff and Melcolm. The rest have either decided to stay neutral as Aunt Lysa has demanded of them, or have not responded either way." Eddard frowned upon hearing that, a slight look of disappointment in his eyes.

"What about House Corbray?" he asked Robb, who shook his head.

"Ser Lyn Corbray has apparently stated that any Vale lord who defies Aunt Lysa is an oath breaker who should be stripped of all lands, and has also challenged some of the lords and knights to duels when they speak out against him, or so I am told," Robb said with some disgust in his voice. "His older brother Lord Lyonel remains silent. That is all that we have heard from the Vale I'm afraid. I'm sorry it's not better news."

"Not to worry Robb," Eddard said. "You've done much over the last few weeks, and I'm proud of you." Jon watched as Robb seemed to stand taller at their father's praise. Eddard also had a proud look about him, and then just like that it was replaced by his 'lord's face'. "But now I must speak with you and Jon, in private." Robb looked back at Jon before nodding his head to their father, who led them from the hall.

Jon and Robb followed their father as he led them up a flight of stairs to one of the rooms that has been set aside for the lords staying within Riverrun. As they entered Jon noticed that Lady Stark was sat at the desk, and to his surprise when she looked up at him she had a look of sorrow in her eyes. Robb sat beside her, asking her if she was alright. Jon walked slowly to the seat that was next to Robb, and he watched as Eddard sat on a seat just across from them. After a minute of silence Jon's father cleared his throat.

"I have something to say to you Jon," he began. "Something that I should've told you a long time ago." Eddard looked up to meet his eyes, and Jon saw that his father had a pained look in his eyes. "Before I say anything else I want you to understand that at the time, I felt that I had no choice but to lie to you, to all of you, to keep you safe." Jon blinked in confusion at those words.

"What do you mean?" Robb asked. "Father, what are you talking about?"

"Robb," Catelyn said softly. "Let your father speak." Jon looked over to his side and saw his brother's mother looking at him with what Jon thought might well have been regret. He turned to face his father again, and what he said next shocked him to his very core.

"You are not my son, Jon."

* * *

Eddard

Eddard walked alongside his wife and daughters while Robb and Jon walked off to the great hall. He had smiled as he watched them walking away, but his smile soon fell. _I should have told him a long time ago_ , he thought. He walked with his wife's arm hooked through his own arm as they walked up to the room where his good-father Lord Hoster was resting. Cat had told him about how ill he was, and the sound of her voice breaking made Eddard's heart break. Soon they entered the room, and he ushered his girls in first. Sansa and Arya walked up to the bed and looked at their grandfather. Hoster looked over to them and gave out a soft laugh.

"Lysa," he said weakly, and Eddard heard Cat breath in sharply.

"No father," she said as they approached him. "It's your granddaughters, Sansa and Arya." Hoster looked from Cat to Eddard before he looked at the girls, and he sighed before reaching out to brush his hand through Sansa's hair. Eddard could see that it took all of his strength to lift his arm.

"Oh, I'm sorry little one," he said. "You just... looked like your aunt when she was your age. I could have sworn... that it was only yesterday... that I saw Lysa in here, speaking with me." Eddard let go of Cat's arm to let her walk around to the other side of the bed.

"That was me father," Cat said as she knelt down beside him. "That was me telling you that Ned and the girls were coming here." Hoster looked over to Cat and smiled.

"Ah yes, I remember that now," he said before looking over to Eddard. "Robb was quite happy... when word reached him about you... escaping Eddard. He seemed very happy... like a young boy on his nameday." Eddard smiled as he stepped closer to the bed. "It's good that you got... out of there Eddard. No one... should be made to suffer the indignity of being... imprisoned within the black cells. The sooner that boy is... brought to heel the better."

"He will be my lord," Eddard said as he gently took Hoster's hand and squeezed it. "I don't intend for him to sit the throne for long. Not after what I have learned." Hoster wheezed slightly before nodding.

"The hour of the wolf approaches again," he said. "Well Eddard, whatever you... decide, I trust that you'll do what is right."

With that Sansa and Arya stayed beside their grandfather, speaking with him and keeping him company, while Eddard and Cat walked out to give them peace. As they left Cat leaned on his right side, and Eddard wrapped his arm over her shoulder, squeezing her shoulder gently. As he walked he winced as a jolt of pain shot up through his leg.

"Ned?" Cat asked worriedly. Eddard shook his head.

"'Tis nothing my lady," he said. "My leg has healed thanks to Varys's friend from the Free Cities. But I'll still get pain in my leg for a time." They continued to walk until Cat steered them to a door that led to one of the guest rooms. "I heard that both Tywin and Jamie Lannister have lost limbs?" he enquired.

"Maester Vyman had to remove Lord Lannister's right leg after corruption began to spread," Cat answered. "The Kingslayer had his sword arm removed during the battle of the camps, taken by Lord Tytos Blackwood just before he died." Cat fell silent as Eddard opened the door and let her go in first. The room was spacious, with a desk in one corner and four chairs nearby, and a double bed on the opposite wall from the desk. "Tytos Blackwood's son Brynden is now the Lord of Raventree, and he and his younger brother Lucas rode back to their seat to drive out the remaining Westermen laying siege to their home, as well as to lay their father to rest. Brynden and Lucas just returned yesterday, and nearly came to blows with Lord Bracken when they came in." Eddard grimaced as he sat down on the edge of the bed, with Cat sitting beside him. Once they were beside each other Eddard pulled Cat closer to him and kissed her softly on the lips. She returned the kiss, wrapping her arms around him, and for a few moments they just sat there kissing each other until Eddard broke the kiss. They then talked for a little bit, Eddard telling her about the truth of Cersei Lannister's children and what happened in the throne room, including Baelish's betrayal (which shocked and angered Cat), then Cat told him about taking Tyrion Lannister prisoner and taking him to the Eyrie where her sister Lysa had been played by the Imp into letting a trial by combat take place (which resulted in Tyrion walking out of the Eyrie a free man with the sellsword who fought for him).

"It was reckless Cat," he told her. "Both you and Lysa were reckless in dealing with the Imp."

"I know that Ned," she said quickly before taking a deep breath. "If I had known how bad Lysa had gotten then I would not have taken him there. If I had realised sooner what Lord Lannister would do then I would not have taken him at all." Tears began to run down her face then, and Eddard pulled her closer to him. "It's my fault... all my fault," she sobbed as she cried into Eddard's shoulder.

"You couldn't have known Cat," he told her soothingly. Cat sniffled as he rubbed his hand up and down her back. "None of us could've predicted that Tywin Lannister would march out for Tyrion like that after being accused of a serious crime. I would have expected him to ride for the capitol and barge in and roar at me in anger, but not once did I think that he would sack the Riverlands. Although in hindsight, I suppose I should have seen it." Cat looked up at him then with a sad smile on her face, and Eddard let out a long sigh. "Cat, there's something I need to tell you," he said, steeling himself. Cat looked at him then, and shifted herself so that she was facing him.

"What is it?" she asked as she wiped her face. Eddard looked into her eyes, those blue eyes that he loved, and then he stroked his fingers through her hair, that lovely long auburn hair that always made him smile. _Gods I don't deserve her_ , he thought, not for the first time.

"It's about Jon," he said, and already he could see Cat's eyes harden slightly. She looked down at her lap for a moment before she looked up at him again.

"What about Jon?" she asked stiffly then, and Eddard braced himself.

"Jon is not, and has never, been my son," he said slowly, looking into Cat's eyes as he spoke. She blinked at him then, and her face fell into one of confusion.

"What?" she muttered. Eddard put both of his hands on her shoulders before continuing.

"All of these years I have lied about Jon, to protect him," he said slowly, keeping his grey eyes locked with his wife's eyes. "I have kept the truth from you, to keep not just him safe, but you and our children as well." Cat's eyes widened with confusion and concern. "If Robert ever learned the truth, then he would likely have killed me, and perhaps you and our children as well if you knew too. But that would have happened after he killed Jon." Cat gasped then, and brought her hands up to his face, her fingers brushing through his beard.

"What are you saying Ned?" she said. "Why would Robert kill him?"

"Because he is Rhaegar Targaryen's son," Eddard finally told her. Cat's eyes widened with shock. "Rhaegar's son by my sister," he finished.

"Lyanna?" she said, her voice a whisper, and when Eddard looked into her eyes he saw the confusion melt away, to be replaced with understanding, acceptance, and finally anger.

Eddard expected the anger as Cat's arms fell down to her side, but nothing prepared him for what she did next. Cat stood up from the edge of the bed and slapped him hard across the cheek. Eddard's head turned to the side and he kept it there, not moving. His face stung but he knew that he deserved it, for all of the years that he has hidden the truth from her. After a few moments he looked back up to her, and saw the betrayal in her eyes, which hurt more then it did the first time he saw that look fifteen years ago.

"Fifteen years," she finally said. "I have lived with this for fifteen years, and only now do you have the courage to tell me the truth?" Her voice was full of anger, but she kept quiet so no one outside could hear. "Why? Why didn't you trust me?" Eddard stood up from the bed as she spoke and put his hand on her arm. "If you'd told me years ago I could've been better to him. Why did you keep this from me?"

"The less you knew, the better," Eddard stated. "It was not about trust Cat. I may not have known you well at the start of our marriage, but even when I could trust you I still could not tell you. If Robert learned the truth then he would have killed me. He would only leave you alive if it was clear that you knew nothing, that is why I never told you or anyone else." Cat looked up at him then and opened her mouth to speak, but it took her a moment to find her voice.

"How could you know that Robert would kill you, or Jon?" she asked with her voice breaking. Eddard looked down and pulled her closer to him. She tried to shake him off at first but he just kept a firm grip.

"That day in the throne room, right after we took King's Landing," he told her. "When Robert sat the Iron Throne and the bodies of Elia Martell and her children were brought before us wrapped in Lannister cloaks, I argued that Tywin Lannister should be punished for the murders of the children and their mother. But Robert said that he did not see babes, only dragon spawn, and he smiled." Eddard looked up into Cat's eyes. "He _smiled_ Cat. He took delight in their deaths. When I found Lyanna in the Tower of Joy, and saw her lying in a bed of blood with Jon in her arms, I knew that I had to claim him as my own, because Robert would have killed him. Jon is Lyanna's child, but he is Rhaegar's too, and that's why Robert would kill him. The fact that he is the result of Lyanna being raped would be more justification for Robert." Cat gasped then, bringing her hands to her mouth.

"Gods," she said. She stood still for a moment before she closed the gap between them and embraced him. "You foolish man," she said as she wept into his chest. "You foolish, stubborn man Eddard Stark." They held each other for a few minutes, Cat crying and Eddard fighting to keep his own tears at bay.

When they broke apart Cat sat down on the chair closest to the desk. She sat with her hands in her lap and looked up at him, here eyes full of sorrow. There was still some anger there, but Eddard expected that. He sat down on the seat beside her and took one of her hands in his own.

"Who else?" she asked him after a few minutes of silence. "Who else knows the truth?" Eddard sighed.

"Howland Reed, who was with me that day," he said, thinking of the small Crannogman who was the Lord of Greywater Watch. Eddard has not seen Howland in many years now. "Varys made it known that he knew as well, while we were sailing away from King's Landing. And it was when he told me that the girls found out." Cat looked up at him sharply, and her eyes closed as she sighed.

"How did they..." she trailed off then, but Eddard knew what she meant.

"They had started to argue, so I told them off," he started. "Sansa ran out crying and Arya ran after her, apologising. They were gone for a short time, leaving me with Varys. They were walking back when I told Varys not to speak a word about Jon's origins. He was trying to get me to support his claim, saying that Jon is the rightful King." Eddard scoffed at that. "How can he be when his mother and father were not married? Anyway, when I told Varys about Rhaegar luring Lyanna and then raping her, and when I told him that it is better for Jon to believe that he is mine and not the result of his true father raping his mother, that was when Arya spoke." Cat gasped at that, and Eddard let the tear that was threatening to fall do so.

"Oh Ned," she said as she leaned over and wiped the tear away. She looked at him then as he began to cry, which he has not done since Lyanna had died in his arms. As he cried he heard his sister's last words to him; _Promise me Ned, promise me_. Soon he felt Cat's arms wrap around him, and they both cried together for a short while.

"I couldn't..." he began before taking a shuddering breath. "I couldn't keep it from them after that... not when Arya looked at me the way you did when I returned from the war." Tears ran down his face freely, and Cat just held him for a long time. Before long Cat began to wipe his face clean, keeping one arm over his back as she did. When she was done Eddard calmed himself down, and they both sat there in each others arms, not letting go. "I'm sorry Cat," he finally said after a long time.

"Me too," she said before kissing his cheek. They sat like that for a little longer before Cat spoke again. "You need to tell him Ned," she said. "You can't keep this from him, not if Arya knows." Eddard nodded his head in agreement before rising.

"Aye," he said, wincing in pain as he stood to his full height. "Damn this leg," he hissed. "Why can't the pain just go away quicker than this?" He laughed bitterly while Cat chuckled. "I'll bring them back here," he said when he turned to look at her. "Robb and Jon. They both need to know the truth." Cat nodded her head.

"Okay," she said. Eddard took hold of Cat's hand and squeezed it reassuringly before leaving the room, walking down to the great hall.

When he found the boys they were talking about the Houses of the Vale who were declaring for their cause. Eddard spoke to them and Robb told him which Houses were going to join and which were not. Afterwards he told them that he needed to speak with them privately and he led them to the room where Cat was. Once they were sat down he took his own seat and looked at Jon. Eddard was quiet for a short while before he cleared his throat and began.

"I have something to say to you Jon," he started. "Something that I should've told you a long time ago." Eddard looked up to meet his eyes. "Before I say anything else I want you to understand that at the time, I felt that I had no choice but to lie to you, to all of you, to keep you safe."

"What do you mean?" Robb asked as Jon blinked in confusion. "Father, what are you talking about?"

"Robb," Cat said softly. "Let your father speak." Eddard swallowed then as Jon looked to his side at Robb and Cat, then he spoke.

"You are not my son, Jon," he told him. Jon looked at him with wide eyes, a startled expression on his face.

"What?" he asked quietly. The two of them looked at each other for a long time before Robb spoke.

"Father, how can... no, that's nonsense," he said. "Jon's your son, you've said as much any time someone asked." Eddard looked across to his eldest son and held his gaze.

"That is what I wanted people to believe, even your mother Robb," he told him. "I have lied to keep Jon safe from Robert Baratheon." He turned to look at Jon who had narrowed his eyes at him then.

"Keep me safe from the King?" he said. "Why would your friend want me dead?" Eddard stood up from his seat and walked over to him before kneeling down so that they were eye to eye.

"Because you father, your true father, was Rhaegar Targaryen," he said. Jon's eyes widened even more, and he sat back. "Your mother was my sister, Lyanna Stark." Eddard then told Jon everything that he told Cat, from how Rhaegar lured his mother and raped her, to when Varys revealed to Eddard that he knew and the argument that led to Sansa and Arya hearing the truth. He explained to Jon and Robb why he never told anyone the truth, and told them of his fears that Robert would kill him because of the fact that Jon's father had gotten his mother pregnant after raping her, saying that Robert would kill Jon thinking that he was avenging Lyanna. When he was done talking Jon just sat there in silence for a long time. When he finally spoke he turned to face Cat.

"You only found out today my lady?" he asked her, his voice breaking. Cat nodded her head.

"Yes," she said quietly. Jon looked away from her and leaned forward, resting his forehead against the palm of his hand. "Jon, I can never begin to apologise enough for how I have treated you over the years, but know that I am truly sorry, for how I have been towards you. If I had known the truth then I would not have been so harsh to you. I know it is not going to be enough, but for what it's worth I am very sorry." Jon looked towards her and nodded his head.

"I don't blame you Lady Stark," he said before he looked up to face Eddard. "But why did I have to wait this long?" His voice was bitter. "Were you ever going to tell me the truth? I don't even know how to address you now." Jon's voice was raised.

"Hey hey, Jon..." Robb began, but Eddard raised his hand to tell him to be quiet. From the corner of his eye he noticed that Robb was indeed falling silent while Cat put her hand on his shoulder.

"I would have told you the truth about your mother one day Jon, that's the truth," he said to him. "I never wanted you to know exactly how you came to be, but there is no stopping that now. Arya and Sansa know the truth, and if I know my youngest daughter, I know that she would not be able to look you in the eye again and keep that knowledge to herself." Jon stood up abruptly and walked over to the window opposite the door. Eddard stood up and walked closer to Jon. "Hurting you is the one thing that I never wanted to do to you Jon, I hope you can believe me when I say that," he said, his voice full of emotion. "I promised your mother to protect you, to raise you as my own for however long it would take until you no longer needed me to keep you safe. Even though she only got to hold you for a few minutes before she died, your mother loved you with everything that she had." Jon turned to look at him then, his face stern while a tear leaked from his eye.

"Despite the circumstances of my birth?" he asked tersely, and Eddard did not need to ask Jon what he meant for he knew what he was asking.

"Despite the circumstances of your birth," he told him. They both stood there looking at each other until Jon walked over to him and threw his arms around him, weeping as he did. Eddard pulled his nephew into his arms and held him for a long time before both Robb and Cat joined them in their embrace. Nothing would be the same again, but Eddard knew that they were stepping in the right direction. Right now, they just needed time to adjust.

* * *

Catelyn

Today has been emotionally exhausting for her. Catelyn was beyond relieved when Ned and the girls came back, but the revelation of Jon's birth was a complete shock to her. She had been angry with Ned, but after he explained himself to her she just could not be angry with him for much longer. He did the right thing, even if he went about it the wrong way. She would need time, a lot of time, before she could forgive him fully, but she could no longer hold any anger towards him. She mainly felt devastated for Jon; for how he came to be and how she has treated him over the years. After Ned had told her the truth he brought Robb and Jon up to the room and told them as well. Jon was shocked, and Catelyn had half expected him to strike Ned like she had done, but to his credit Jon did not lash out. After Ned had told him everything Jon had embraced his uncle, and both Catelyn and Robb joined them, all four of them crying. It was the first time that she had seen her husband cry, and it hurt her to see him so vulnerable. It upset her so much, and Catelyn vowed that she would do anything that she could to not let him or Jon feel so vulnerable again.

After Ned had spoken with them Jon had left the room to go to the godswood. When he left Ned had left to speak with the lords, leaving Catelyn alone with Robb. They sat next to each other, both mulling over the last couple of hours.

"I still can't believe it," Robb had said after a while. "All this time I have seen him as a brother, and in truth he was in fact my cousin." Catelyn had listened to her son as he spoke with her and told her of all the times that he and Jon had played together as children; times that she did not wish to know of in the past. She listened as Robb spoke of his and Jon's antics, playing in the godswood at Winterfell, riding and racing each other through the Wolfswood, drinking Summerwine from Ned's personal supplies when they could get away with it. It made her smile to hear of such things, even the things that she could rightly scold Robb for. After they had spent an hour speaking Robb left the room, saying that he needed to find Jon and speak to him. "We may now know that we are cousins, but he needs to know that nothings changed," he said to her. "We'll always be brothers." Catelyn had smiled when he said that, and she knew that in Robb's mind, and hopefully in Jon's mind, that they would still be brothers in every way that mattered; brothers in all but name.

Catelyn was walking along the corridors of Riverrun, lost in her own thoughts, when she heard the sound of a girl grunting. It was the grunt made by someone who was training, she realised. _Who on earth could be training just now_? she thought as she walked closer to the source of the noise. She walked until the grunting became louder, and then she found herself stood before a door that was open very slightly. She peered inside and saw Arya with a wooden practice sword in her hands.

"Hello Arya," she said as she opened the door fully. Arya jumped when Catelyn entered the room, and she tried to hide the practice sword behind her back.

"Mother," she said in a surprised tone. "I was... um, I mean..." Catelyn smiled at Arya and raised her hand.

"Don't worry child," she said to her. "I'm not here to scold you this time." Arya seemed relieved at that and relaxed, the practice sword held loosely in her left hand. She looked up at Catelyn and gave her a small smile.

"Did you speak with father?" Arya asked her, and she nodded.

"Yes Arya," Catelyn answered. "We had much to speak of." Catelyn approached her youngest daughter and put her arm on her shoulder. "Including Jon," she said after a minute. Arya bit down on her lip and then nodded her head. Catelyn took a moment to observe her daughter; Arya was dressed in a boy's tunic that was green in colour over a light brown coloured under-shirt, and she wore a pair of rough looking dark breeches. Her brown hair which would go just past her shoulders was tied back in a simple braid to keep it out of her face, but some strands of hair had gotten loose. Catelyn pulled some of those strands back behind Arya's ear before pulling her closer to her. Arya dropped the practice sword, which fell on the floor with a clatter, before she wrapped her arms around Catelyn's waist.

"I still have trouble believing it," Arya said to her when they parted. Catelyn knelt down beside her and rubbed her hand up and down her arm soothingly. "When father was speaking with Varys, when Sansa and I overheard them, I was so angry. I lost my temper," she said, her voice choked as she spoke. Catelyn smiled at her as she took a deep breath. "I... I am ashamed to say that I cursed at father."

"He already told me that Arya," Catelyn said, and Arya looked down and her cheeks flushed a bright shade of red. "We have all had times when we have acted in a less than appropriate fashion, myself included." Arya looked up at her in surprise then. Catelyn sat down on the floor then, patting her hand down onto the space next to her. Arya sat down beside her and she brought her knees up to her chest. "Before I met your father, I was supposed to marry your Uncle Brandon, your father's older brother, do you remember me telling you that?" Arya nodded her head. "I first met your uncle here at Riverrun, and I fancied myself in love with him, despite knowing next to nothing about him other than the fact that he was the Heir to Winterfell back then. However, a few years before I met him I had found out that I was betrothed to him. I was young then, and was hopeful for a royal match or at least a handsome knight of the south, much like your sister. When your grandfather told me that I would marry what I then foolishly believed to be a stinking Northern barbarian I was angry; I was so angry about the thought of being sent to the cold North that I cursed my father, to his face as well." Arya's eyes widened at that.

"I can't imagine that grandfather was happy with you for that?" she asked, and Catelyn laughed.

"My father stood there and glared at me, but he let me wear myself out before he said another word," she replied. "He just said to me, 'Cat my girl, you can curse me however much you want once you've married him, but until then do not say anything until you have at least met the boy'. He left me alone in my chambers for the night, and the next day he took me into his study and we spoke about what being married to a Stark would mean for my father's House and for me. You thought you were ashamed Arya? I was mortified once I calmed down and realised half of the things that I said to my father." Both of them giggled at that, Arya probably struggling to see her doing anything remotely unladylike while Catelyn laughed at the memories of that time. "Then I started to grow up a bit, then had my first flowering, then eventually I met your uncle, and when I thought back on the day my father told me about my betrothal I felt so embarrassed over it. More so because of the fact, if you can believe it, that I did not apologise to my father for my behaviour." Arya looked at her with a stunned look then.

"What?" she stammered. Catelyn smiled at her girl's shock.

"That's right," she said. Arya burst out laughing then, and Catelyn joined her. When she got herself under control Arya looked back at her, her face red and her eyes watering with laughter.

"No way," she said. "That just doesn't seem like you mother." Catelyn smiled.

"I was very young back then," she told her. "Even I had a mischievous streak back then."

Catelyn and Arya sat there in the room for quite a while, speaking about her childhood in Riverrun and her memories; playing games with Lysa and Petyr, listening to her father's conversations with his lords bannermen, fawning over little Edmure when he was just a baby, and her few memories of her own mother Minisa. When they started to speak of Minisa, Catelyn found it hard to speak of her; she was young when her mother died, after a painful birth that resulted in the deaths of both Catelyn's mother and the boy that she had carried. Thinking back to then made her cry for a short time, as to Catelyn her mother's death marked the end of her own childhood.

"After your grandmother died," she told Arya, "I took up some of her responsibilities. I mourned for her, but I just... I took over some of her tasks. I reckon some of the servants would've thought that I had become a snotty little madam for bossing them around, but after a while I got used to everything and they soon became helpful, some of them even going out of their way to help me with what I should focus more on. My father's steward in particular was a great help. I suppose that was when I truly started to grow up. And then, after a time, I met your uncle, and well," she paused as she stood up and looked down at Arya, who had let her hair go loose after undoing the braid that it was in. "You know the rest of that story," she finished. Arya nodded her head and they both made their way to the door. Catelyn looked outside and saw that it was just getting darker outside.

The two of them walked down the corridor to where the girls were staying, and they both walked in to find Sansa reading a book. Catelyn looked at the book in her eldest daughter's hands and noticed that it was one of her favourite romance novels. When they entered Sansa looked up at her and Arya.

"Hello mother, Arya," she said with a slight smile before marking the page she was on and putting the book down.

"Evening Sansa," Catelyn said as she approached. Sansa stood up and embraced her, before looking at Arya. From the corner of the room Nymeria huffed as she stood up to her full height. After months in the wild the direwolf looked much better and cleaner than she did when she entered Catelyn's tent all those days ago. "I see you have company." Sansa smiled a little at that while Arya walked over to her companion.

"I let Sansa look after her for me, so long as she didn't try to wash her or make her look pretty or anything," Arya said. Sansa rolled her eyes. "And I thought it would be good for her, after..." Catelyn looked back at Arya when she trailed off and saw the sad look in her eyes. She remembered Ned telling her about how he had to kill Lady to spare her from undue suffering after Cersei Lannister ordered for her to be put to death.

"I was so stupid," Sansa said suddenly, drawing the attention of both of them. "I should have told the King the truth about what happened that day at the river. If I had then maybe father wouldn't have had to kill Lady. Maybe... maybe..." Sansa trailed off then as tears began to fall down her face. Catelyn began to walk to her daughter, but she stopped suddenly when Arya raced over to her and hugged her. Sansa returned the hug, and Catelyn smiled at what she saw before her. For too long those two had been at odds with each other over their differences in behaviour. They would never see eye to eye, but at least they did not seem to be fighting anymore. After a minute Catelyn walked up to them and wrapped them both into a tight hug, which they both responded to. They stood like that for a minute or so until Arya spoke up then.

"Mother, Sansa, can we stop hugging please," she said. "I feel like I'm being crushed here." Catelyn laughed as she stepped back from them and watched the girls stand apart before looking away awkwardly. The silence did not last long when Sansa spoke up.

"Arya, when did father let you have a sword?" she asked. Catelyn followed Sansa's eyes and found herself looking at a very thin bladed sword that was tucked away in an open trunk that had Arya's few belongings. Arya had the decency to look embarrassed as she stepped closer to the trunk and picked the sword up, holding it carefully in both hands. Upon looking at the sword Catelyn frowned slightly as she recalled seeing a sword of such design in the past, but could not place where she knew it from.

"He didn't, not to start with," Arya said before looking at Sansa. "Why are you only asking now Sansa?" she asked. Sansa shrugged her shoulders absent-mindedly, which made Catelyn shake her head.

"Sorry," she said quietly to her before looking back to Arya. "I just did not think to ask when we were travelling after leaving the ship." Arya chewed on her lip before looking back down at the sword. She fiddled with the pommel for a moment before looking back at Catelyn.

"Please don't be mad with Jon mother," she began, and then Catelyn realised how Arya got her sword.

"Jon had it made for you?" she asked, and Arya looked at her nervously before nodding her head.

"Just before we left Winterfell," she said. "He came to my room as I was packing for the tenth time," she stated with some annoyance in her voice. Catelyn wanted so very much to scold her for her tone, but right now she decided to let it go. "He gave it to me, and said that I should have to be very careful with it and train regularly. After we got to the capitol, when I was sent to my room after... well, after father sent me to my room, he came to see me and saw Needle in my hands. That's the name of my sword," she said, tapping the blade carefully. "We talked about it for a couple of minutes, and then father agreed to get someone to train me." A wide smile spread across her face then, and at the same time Sansa gasped, as if realising some great mystery.

"That was your dancing lessons?" she said, to which Catelyn stared at her in shock. "You can't dance with a sword Arya."

"This isn't any normal dance Sansa," Arya cut in. "I was being taught the water dance, a sword fighting technique from Braavos." Catelyn's eyes widened then as she realised what Arya was talking about, and then she looked at Arya's sword, her Needle. _Of course, the Bravos of Braavos, that's why the sword looks familiar_ , she thought. "My teacher was Syrio Forrel, who was the first sword to the Sealord of Braavos," Arya said with enthusiasm. She then started to go on about her training with this Syrio Forrel, and all of his lessons which aside from the fencing ranged from chasing cats to balancing on one foot at the top of a flight of stairs. Sansa looked at Arya with bewilderment in her eyes as she told them of each lesson. Then after a while Arya's face fell. "And then the day when father was arrested, Lannister men came in to take me to the Queen, led by Ser Meryn Trant," she said, snarling the knight's name with such hate that it made Catelyn uneasy. "Syrio held them off with his practice sword so I could escape, and even though I have not seen his body I know that Meryn Trant killed him." Catelyn looked at Arya, her heart heavy as she watched her looking down at the floor and clearly trying not to cry. Catelyn was about to speak when a familiar voice spoke up behind her.

"He'll get what he deserves Arya," came the voice of Jon Snow, "I promise." Catelyn looked around at him and saw that he was not looking as sullen as he usually used to be. _How much of that sullenness was down to me_? she thought. "My lady," he said as he stepped in, bowing his head. "I hope you don't mind the intrusion." Catelyn shook her head.

"No Jon, not at all," she said. Jon stepped closer to them before Catelyn stood up from the edge of Sansa's bed where she had sat down. "Jon, I wanted to say..." she began before Jon shook his head and raised his hand.

"It's okay Lady Stark," he said. "I know you feel obligated to apologise for how you have been around me, but I do not blame you. I cannot blame you," he said. "For fifteen years you have lived under the belief that I am Lord Stark's bastard, and you had the right to be offended by that. I'm still angry at him for keeping this from me for so long, although I do wish that, now that I know the truth of how I came to be, that he was my actual father. He's the only one who I ever regarded as being my father, and no matter what the truth I can't think of him as anything but." Jon looked away and sighed. "And I'm rambling like some blasted fool in a mummers troupe," he added after a short while.

"You don't say stupid," Arya cut in as she stomped over to him. Catelyn was startled by Arya's sudden declaration. "And don't start even thinking of interrupting me Jon. You'll always be my big brother. Robb, Bran and Rickon will always be your brothers, and I'll always be your little sister." Catelyn heard Sansa scoff in annoyance beside her when Arya pulled Jon down into a hug.

"And what about me Arya?" she huffed indignantly. Arya looked over at her and rolled her eyes. Catelyn brought her hand up to hide her laughter.

"I suppose we can count you as well Sansa," she said. At that Sansa walked over and hugged Jon, who looked alarmed at such affection from his cousins. Catelyn watched them, thinking about how cold and unpleasant she has been towards him. _He says that I do not need to apologise to him_ , she thought. _But even he knows that my own attitude was beyond harsh. Why does he say that I don't need to apologise when I do_? As she stood there thinking things over there was a knock on the door. Catelyn looked over at the door as the others turned to look, and standing there was Theon Greyjoy.

"Evening Snow," he said as he saw Jon, who just grunted a quick response to him. "My ladies, I'm sorry to disturb you at the moment," he said with a serious tone, "but Lord Stark and Robb have called for a meeting in the great hall just now, to discuss our next move. It seems Renly has finally responded to Robb's letter to him." Catelyn looked over at Jon whose face had suddenly become very serious. "They were asking for you my Lady Stark, and you as well Sn... Jon," he said, quickly correcting himself at the end there. Jon looked back at her before looking at the girls.

"We'll speak tomorrow," he said.

"But I want to come too," Arya all but whined. Jon smirked at her and ruffled her hair.

"I believe that it is your mother and I that are being summoned Arya," he told her. Arya responded to that the only way she could; she narrowed her eyes at Jon before sticking her tongue out at him.

"Arya," Catelyn admonished her, trying not to laugh, while Sansa disguised her giggle with a cough. She looked at Theon and nodded her head. "We shall follow after you Theon," she told him. Theon bowed his head and then turned and walked away.

"We'll get a chance to speak later Arya," Jon said. "I promise." Arya looked at him before nodding her head and stepping back to allow Nymeria to wander forward. The direwolf whined at Jon and sniffed him, making him chuckle slightly. "You be good for your mistress Nymeria," he told her as he scratched her behind her ear. With that he nodded at Sansa in a quick farewell before stepping outside. Catelyn looked at her daughters then, and embraced them quickly.

"Get some rest girls," she told them. "If I don't see you later this evening then I'll see you on the morrow."

As Arya and Sansa bid her goodnight Catelyn walked out of the room, stroking her hand through Nymeria's fur as she walked out before closing the door behind her, leaving her girls alone in the same room. _In the past that would be a dangerous thing to do_ , she mused with a slight smirk as she walked along the corridor. Jon was far ahead of her, following after Theon, while a Riverrun guardsman led her to the same destination. As she walked Catelyn sighed, thinking back to ten years ago when she had scolded Jon for some silly little thing and he had gotten upset. She only thought about that particular time because of what she said to him after he had asked a question that at the time had angered her; " _Why can't you be my mother Lady Stark_?" he had asked then as he began to cry. As she walked she remembered her answer to him, and felt a surge of regret run through her as she remembered her cold words to him.

" _You must never call me that bastard_ ," she had said. " _I am not, and never shall, be your mother_."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Next chapter will be entirely from Robb's POV. See how he deals with the truth about Jon, and find out what Renly says in his response. Then we'll find out which way the North goes from here.


	8. Decisions

**Author's Note:** This chapter takes place on the same day as the last chapter and is all from Robb's POV. We get to see his view on the revelation about Jon, and then we will see what will happen next.

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

 **Decisions**

* * *

Robb

" _You are not my son, Jon_."

Those words echoed in Robb's ears. It had been a huge shock for him to hear his father admit that Jon was not his son but his nephew; which meant that to Robb, Jon was his cousin and not his brother. The words still seemed unreal to him. _All this time, and he never once told us_ , he thought, taking a deep breath as he walked along the corridor. _It must have been utter hell for him to do that_. Robb was split on his father's decision; on the one hand he was disappointed, even angry, that his father would choose to lie to them, especially to his mother and Jon; but on the other hand he saw the wisdom behind it. _I hope to the gods that I never find myself in such a situation_ , he thought as he opened a door that led to outside. Robb had stayed in the room with his mother for a short time after Jon and his father left, Jon to go to the godswood and Eddard to speak with the lords about what is going on with the conflict. After speaking with his mother about various things revolving around his childhood with Jon, Robb had decided to go outside and find Jon to speak with him. As he walked along the path that led to the godswood he noticed Jon's friends wandering around speaking with each other. He avoided them so that they would not ask him about what his father had wanted of them. Robb rushed into the godswood and walked along the path.

The godswood in Riverrun was a bright and airy place with redwoods and old elms as well as streams and nesting birds, and with the many flowers it was more like a garden than anything else. Its heart tree was unusual for godswoods south of the Neck; instead of being an oak tree the heart tree was a slender weirwood with a sad face carved onto it. Robb knew that when the Andals invaded thousands of years ago they had cut down or burned most of the weirwood trees south of the Neck, but a few places still had them such as Riverrun, Raventree Hall, Highgarden and even Casterly Rock. The one place that still holds a significant number of weirwood trees is the Isle of Faces in the middle of the Gods Eye lake south of Harrenhal, which according to what Robb has heard has many weirwoods all tended to by the order known as the green men. As he walked past the trees Robb thought about the godswood of Winterfell, which was at least ten-thousand years old if not more; three acres of forest with the ancient castle of Winterfell built around it full of many trees such as ash, chestnut, hawthorn, oaks, sentinel, ironwood and soldier pines all so close together to provide a dense canopy overhead, with old packed earth, humus and moss under foot and kept warm by the natural hot springs beneath that fed the pools, and at the very centre of the godswood was a pool of black water which was towered over by an ancient weirwood tree. Like all weirwoods its bark was as white as bone, its leaves a dark red colour, and it had its carved face, which was different for every weirwood; the weirwood of Winterfell had a long and melancholy face with dried sap within its deep cut eyes. Thinking about the godswood back in Winterfell made Robb think of home, and how Bran and Rickon were doing. _Is Bran walking better now_? he wondered. _Is he able to walk without that damned cane? And what about Rickon? He must be fed up with us being so far away from him_.

After a few minutes of walking Robb came across Jon kneeling before the weirwood tree, praying to the old gods. Robb watched him for a few moments before walking slowly over to him and kneeling down as well, his head bowed. Jon looked up to him as he had approached but did not stand up or speak, so they both stayed there, kneeling and praying. They may have both been born in the south, but Robb and Jon were of the North; they kept the old gods like Robb's father and most others from the North, not the Seven gods that Robb's mother prayed to. They stayed like that for a time before Jon stood up and wandered to a nearby bench and sat down. Robb stayed still for a moment before joining him.

"Talk to me Jon," he said after a moment. Jon kept quiet for a minute longer before taking a deep breath.

"I hate him," he said, his voice quiet. "He had fifteen years to tell me the truth. To tell your mother the truth. For fifteen years I have wanted to know who my mother was, and now I know." He trailed off then, looking up towards the heart tree, his face solemn and his eyes full of anger. "I can see why he did it," he continued after a moment. "But why could he not at least speak with Lady Stark? Let her know? At the very least she may have been kinder to me growing up." Robb sighed, putting his hand on Jon's shoulder.

"I..." he started before stopping himself. _I can't say that I understand because I don't_ , he realised. "I can't begin to defend father's actions. I see why he did it the way he did. And I disagree with it." Jon looked at him when he said that. "He should have spoken with you alone to begin with, then told me and my mother afterwards. I think he should have done that a long time ago, before going south with the girls, hells before King Robert became fat." Jon snorted at the jape before chuckling lightly. "Arya and Sansa should not have found out the way they did either, but we can partly blame Lord Varys for that. What happened with him anyway?" Jon looked at him with a frown before sitting up straight.

"He was killed," he said. "That day when I found them being attacked by Stannis Baratheon's men, fath... Lord Stark told me that Varys was the first to fall. Took an arrow to the neck." Robb sighed as he slumped down into the back of the bench. After a moment Jon grunted. "I don't even know what to call him anymore," he said. "What do I call him? Lord Stark? Uncle?" Robb sighed at Jon's question.

"I don't know Jon," he said honestly. "I think you had better ask him that when you get a moment alone with him." Jon shook his head and stayed quiet for a short while. When he spoke, he did so with some malice in his voice.

"I want to hit him," he said. Robb blinked at that. "I want to punch him in the face, to kick him in the gut, to throttle him for what he has done."

"Then why don't you?" Robb asked as he stood up and looked down at him. "Why don't you go and do that?" Jon lifted his head and looked right into his eyes, his Stark grey looking into Robb's Tully blue.

"Because I'm better than that," he answered after a few seconds, his face softening as he calmed down. "I've always been better than just lashing out at people when I'm angry. Plus your mother was there." Robb shrugged his shoulders at that remark.

"I'm sure that she would have turned a blind eye on this occasion," he responded. Jon chuckled at that before looking off to the side.

"Why was she so..." Jon started before standing up and facing him. "Your mother, why was she kind to me earlier when we were all there?" Robb folded his arms and looked down at his boots, a slight smirk creeping up onto his face.

"When father's letter arrived telling us that all of you were on your way, mother's face was twisted with annoyance," he said as he looked back up at Jon. "She was calling you a deserter for not being at the Wall. After I read the letter myself I got her to calm down and look at the facts. She did not like that I was telling her to read the letter properly." Jon sniggered at that as Robb chuckled at the thought. "We read what father wrote about his escape and the girls being with him, and we read what he said about you and your friends. Mother just stood there looking daft, as if it were impossible for her to comprehend the idea that you were saving family. I said as much to her, and I used her own House words against her when I told her that," he finished, and Jon cringed.

"I'm surprised that you're still on your feet for doing that," he said, and Robb snorted.

"So am I if I'm honest," he said before they both burst out laughing. They began to walk around the godswood, walking close together as they did. "Anyway, after we had finished arguing mother agreed to be at least kind towards you, for a while anyway. Although I imagine that with everything we've learned today that she's feeling disgusted with herself for being anything but." Jon said nothing in response, and Robb looked at him. "I won't take offence if you harbour any hate towards my mother," he said when he felt things getting tense.

"I don't hate her, surprisingly," Jon said. "I know some wouldn't blame me if I did. I didn't like her, and to a degree I still don't. I resent how she has treated me, but I can't hate her." Robb was surprised at Jon's admission, but said nothing in reply. They both remained silent for a time as they walked around the trees of Riverrun's godswood, reflecting on all they had learned today. After a while Robb remembered why he had sought Jon out. He cleared his throat and looked at him, taking on a serious look as he did.

"Listen Jon, I know things have changed for you," he said as he brushed his hand through his hair. "I know that, with this... I know that you may feel that everything has changed, and you're right." Jon shifted uncomfortably before looking away from him. "But not everything has to be different," he continued before Jon could speak. "We may be cousins, but you'll always be a brother to me." Robb put a hand on Jon's shoulder and gently squeezed it. "From this day until my last, you'll always be my brother, no matter what. You will always find a place at my side. And Arya's as well." Jon chortled at that before putting his own hand on Robb's shoulder.

"You're right Robb," he said as he looked at him. "I know you're right. Everything else has changed, but not us. We just know the truth. But I'll always see you as a brother. I can't think of you as anything else." A smirk appeared on Jon's face then. "Well, apart from being a pain in my arse from time to time." Robb frowned at that before he burst out laughing, and soon the two of them were laughing away like lunatics.

After their talk in the godswood Robb led Jon to the great hall to get some food. Along the way they were joined by Sam and Pyp, who were both talking about some mummers troupe that Pyp said he used to be with. Once inside they found Grenn sat at one of the lower tables with a bowl of stew in his hands. The five of them sat together and ate and spoke, talking about anything other than the conflict. Robb listened as Pyp spoke of his time with the mummers troupe he spoke about earlier, telling them that he has heard so many different people that he can tell where someone is from by their accent alone. Pyp also gave a demonstration of his skills, taking on a Stormlands accent before adopting a Reachman's accent. Robb and Jon laughed at Pyp's antics. Robb then asked Sam about his family, recognising his surname as being that of a House from the Reach. Sam was uncomfortable with talking about his father, who was the reason for him going to the Wall in the first place, but he spoke of his mother and sisters with some fondness. He even spoke of his little brother Dickon, who was now the heir to Horn Hill. Right now they were listening to Grenn as he spoke of his past.

"Well, I was left by my da when I was about three," he said after he drank his ale to wash the last of his stew down. "I lived on the farm where he left me until a wandering crow came to recruit folk for the Watch. At the time I was nursing a broken heart."

"You never told us this," Jon said before he sipped his own drink. Grenn shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, none o' you asked," he replied, earning a couple of laughs. "Anyway, there was this girl, Brida. Gods she was lovely, same age as me, with dirty blonde hair halfway down her back, brown eyes and a pretty smile. We messed about as kids quite often, and when we got a bit older..." Grenn sniggered as he reached for his drink. "Well, let's just say that we became more than familiar with each other." Robb laughed joyfully at the thought, as did Jon and Pyp. Sam however just had an envious look in his eye.

"How... how many times did you... you know, did you do it?" he asked nervously. Grenn looked at him blankly before shrugging his shoulders.

"As many times as we could," he stated. He then looked down at his empty bowl, his face going serious. "And then she came up to me one day, tears running down her face, and told me she was pregnant." Everyone fell quiet then, not sure what to say to that. Robb scratched his chin before clearing his throat.

"What did you do?" he asked him. Grenn looked up at him then and Robb could see anguish in his eyes.

"There was nothing I could do," he said. "I told her that I would marry her, but her father had wed her quite quickly to some merchant that he knew. She was married before she could speak to me. Her father then approached me and told me to sling me hook the first time someone came looking for labourers or soldiers. A few days after Brida left the farm we got told that a merchant's caravan had been attacked. It was the same merchant that Brida was wed off to." Robb looked away then, anger filling him as he thought on what could have happened. Soon enough Grenn told them what he heard had happened. "The merchant was dead, his throat slit ear to ear. His guards were all dead, and there was no sign of any women. None at all. I don't need to guess what happened." Robb looked back to him and saw the others looking at him with sympathy in their eyes. "A fortnight after that the wandering crow arrived looking for volunteers. I walked up to him before Brida's father could march me up to him. And the rest is history." Grenn took his cup and downed the rest of his ale before putting the cup down. Robb turned to the side and waved a serving girl over.

"Get us some more ale please," he told her. The girl took off, and several minutes later she reappeared with a flagon filled with ale.

As Robb and the others drank they were joined by Theon, who looked quite pleased with himself. Robb did not need to ask him what he had been up to as it was clear on his face. Theon sat down and began to talk with the others, and even Jon joined in on the conversation, which Robb was surprised with.

"So then Snow, did you get a look at any pretty wildling girls while you were up there freezing your balls off?" he asked him. Robb rolled his eyes at his friend's question while Jon shot him a glare.

"None of us here got to see any," he said. "Recruits aren't allowed north of the Wall, not until they take their vows, which I didn't." Theon leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest and smiling in a cocky manner.

"Ah well, I've met a rather lovely girl from over the Wall," he said before turning to look at Robb. "Both of us have haven't we Robb?" Robb stared at Theon with a raised brow before looking back at Jon.

"A few months ago now, when I went out riding in the Wolfswood with Theon and Bran, after we were told it would be safe for him to ride, we came across a band of wildlings," Robb said, frowning as he remembered that day.

"What happened?" Jon asked. Robb looked up at him.

"Bran didn't tell you I take it?" he asked him, to which Jon shook his head. "Well, I went to find Grey Wind and Summer after they had howled to let us know that they had caught their food. Not my best move as I left Bran by himself. When I came back I saw about five wildlings surrounding him. I drew my sword and challenged them, and three of them approached me when Grey Wind and Summer attacked them. Two of them came for me, a man and a woman. I killed the man, slashing his belly open before cutting the side of his neck. The woman put up more of a fight, but Grey Wind snatched her spear from her hands and I got my sword to her throat. Then the wildling leader was all that was left, and he held a knife to Bran's throat." Robb took a drink while Jon stared at him, eyes wide with shock.

"How did you get out of that?" he asked.

"Well, Theon's timely arrival and reckless decision making resulted in the wildling dying from an arrow through his back," Robb said, shooting a glare at Theon who rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Come on Robb, I knew the risk I was taking," he said defensively. "I adjusted my aim to make sure that I wouldn't hit Bran and I loosed off my arrow. No harm done."

"If your arrow had been loosed at the wrong moment..." Robb began before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"It was a risk son," he heard his father say. Robb looked up over his shoulder to see his father standing with Ice secured over his back and Hallis Mollen beside him. "We have all taken risks in the past. It just so happened that Theon got lucky." Robb looked over to Theon who had a wide cocky smirk on his face.

"See, I told you Robb..." he began before being cut off by Eddard.

"But at the same time it was reckless," he stated, and Theon's cocky smirk disappeared quicker than it had appeared. "Despite the fact that you adjusted your aim Theon, the man could have still slit Bran's throat if the blade was close enough to his throat. Even if you had got close enough to behead him, his arm could've twitched just enough to do some damage to Bran." Theon looked off to his side then, looking deeply ashamed Robb thought. After a moment Robb stood up and looked at his father.

"Do you need to see me just now father?" he asked. Eddard smiled before shaking his head slightly.

"Actually I was wanting to speak with Jon," he said. Robb looked at Jon who looked quite uncomfortable then.

"Go on Jon," he encouraged. "We can manage without you for a short time." Jon stood up slowly before looking at Robb, and then he nodded his head.

"Of course," he said as he walked off to join Eddard. Robb watched as Jon and his father walked away, no doubt to discuss certain things further. Robb hoped that Jon would act calmly and listen to whatever Eddard had to say before reacting.

"Well then," Theon spoke up, although not as cockily as he normally would. "Anyone fancy some fresh air?"

Ten minutes later Robb, Theon and the others walked out of the great hall and made their way to the tilt yard where some of the men were exercising. Men-at-arms were practising their sword fighting techniques while knights checked their weapons and archers worked to improve their marksmanship. For half an hour Robb walked past people as they trained, some acknowledging him as he walked past.

"Blimey, look at that," Grenn said pointing off to the scene in front of them. Robb looked at where Grenn pointed off to to see Dacey sparring with her mother. Maege held her spiked mace firmly as Dacey charged at her, swinging her own mace overhead before bringing it down to try and strike her mother's right arm. "I didn't know there was more than one woman fighting with you lot." Robb chuckled at Grenn's words.

"My father wouldn't be pleased to see this," Sam said. "He always said that a woman's war was fought on the birthing bed and it is a man's place to fight on the battlefield." Robb looked over at the fat boy and stared at him. Sam began to shuffle uncomfortably under Robb's stare.

"I take it Lord Tarly has never met Lady Mormont or her daughter then?" he said after a moment.

"He's had the pleasure of meeting me once," Maege called over from where she was stood training with her eldest daughter. Robb turned to see Maege looking at them as Dacey tried to take advantage of her looking away. Even though she was looking at him Maege was still paying enough attention to her sparring partner to raise her mace to block Dacey's strike, which she then countered by sweeping her boot behind Dacey's leg and pushing her daughter back, tripping her up. Robb winced slightly as his friend yelped in pain as she hit the ground, landing on her bad shoulder. Maege then turned to face Sam. "Your idiot of a father said those words to me years ago. When Lord Stark marched to Storm's End to lift the siege there and relieve Stannis Baratheon and his garrison, I was stood with him and my brother as the lords of the Reach bent the knee to us and swore fealty to House Baratheon. At some point during the talks your father walked up to my brother and told him that he should wed me off to a man who could keep me tied to the marriage bed. He then said to me what you just said, and I floored him with one punch to the face and told him that Bear Island women can fight better than most men as well as birth children and that if he doesn't like it he can always take it out on the Ironborn and the wildlings." Robb looked over to Sam who looked shocked at Maege's story.

"What have the Ironborn and wildlings got to do with women from Bear Island fighting?" Grenn spoke up then. Robb rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word Dacey spoke up, drawing his attention.

"The Ironborn and the wildlings have always plagued Bear Island," she said as she walked over while rubbing her bad shoulder. It had healed enough to allow her to resume training again, but Robb knew that it would still hurt a bit. "For thousands of years they have raided our shores, and seemed to pick times when our men were off fishing, leaving us women to learn how to fight." Dacey started to explain the history of her House's ancestral lands to Grenn and Pyp while Sam and Robb walked off with Maege. At that point Robb realised that Theon had taken off, and as he looked around he saw the Greyjoy heir at the archery boards with a group of young aspiring archers.

"I feel sorry for your brother's friend Robb," Maege said as they walked off. "Once Dacey starts, she never shuts up about Bear Island. Almost as bad as me I think." Robb wanted to agree with that last remark, but decided against it. After a few moments of walking Maege turned to look at him, her face serious. "So, has your father spoken with you about how to resolve the matter of the Dreadfort now that Lord Roose is dead?" she asked him. Robb looked off to Sam and noticed that he was stood wide eyed and frozen at the mention of the Dreadfort. _What horror stories has Jon told you Sam_? he wondered before he answered Maege's question.

"I have not had the chance to speak of that matter my lady," he said. Robb had been planning to ask about what to do with the lordship of the Dreadfort but then his father had revealed the truth about Jon, and Robb had forgotten all about it. "I will be speaking to him as soon as I next see him, once he has done talking with Jon." Maege nodded her head briefly at that before smirking.

"You've still got a lot to learn Robb," she said before looking at Sam. "You both have." Before either of them could respond to her a Riverrun guardsman approached them.

"Lord Robb," the man said. "Your lord father has requested your presence." Robb looked at the guardsman and nodded his head.

"I'll be there soon," he said. "Did my father want Theon Greyjoy there as well or did he just mention me?" The guardsman looked blankly before nodding his head.

"Yes milord," he said. "He wanted Lord Theon as well, but I already saw him and told him of Lord Stark's summons."

"Very good," Robb replied. He then looked at Maege who had an amused look about her.

"You'd better go and see what your father wants Robb," she said as she began to walk away.

Robb walked through the corridors of Riverrun for fifteen minutes before he found himself in the same room as his father and some of the other lords. Greatjon was standing there with an angry expression on his face, which did not sit well with Robb. Lord Rickard Karstark was stood glaring at the table in front of him, as if that table had offended him greatly. Galbart Glover was stood with his arms folded as he stepped away from the table. Robb's uncle Ser Edmure was sat on the chair next to the table while his great-uncle Ser Brynden was standing with his back against the wall. Theon was standing just in front of him, and Robb walked over to stand beside him.

"You asked to see me father?" he said as he stopped beside Theon. Eddard looked at him with a grim expression. After a quiet moment he pointed to the table between them.

"A letter from Renly, addressed to you Robb," he answered. Robb looked down at the top of the table and then realised that the letter was what Lord Rickard was glaring at. He stepped closer and looked down at the letter, turning it around so he could read it properly.

 **To the noble Robb Stark of Winterfell,**

 **I am immensely pleased at your victory over Lord Tywin Lannister at the Trident river. I have no doubt that you must be so proud of such a glorious achievement. It is not every day that one defeats one of the most feared men in the Seven Kingdoms. Your father will be most proud of you.**

 **In regards to your recent letter, I must decline your invitation to ride for Riverrun. Aside from the fact that it is such an unnecessary distance to travel I need to stay with the army that I am raising to engage the would-be King Joffrey. I think you will agree with me that the Lannisters have had too much power recently, and need to be removed.**

 **It would be against our interests to divert attention from the real prize of King's Landing, and therefore I cannot ride out to entertain you and your fellow lords. Rest assured that I will do everything in my power to free your father Ned Stark as well as your sisters, Sansa and Ara.**

 **I look forward to meeting with you in the future, both as your King and as your friend,**

 **Renly of the House Baratheon**

 **The First of His name,**

 **King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men,**

 **Lord of the Seven Kingdoms,**

 **and Protector of the Realm**

The letter had clearly been rushed considering how untidy the writing was, but after he finally managed to read it Robb was furious with what he read. He read it once more before passing it to Theon beside him, who read it slowly. After a moment Theon snorted.

"The prat can't spell Arya's name let alone write properly," he said with a chuckle. Looking at his father told Robb that he was not very happy either.

"This is no laughing matter Theon," Eddard spoke, his voice firm and authoritative. Theon had the decency to look remorseful before he spoke again.

"Forgive me, my lord," he said. "I did not mean to make light of this." Eddard looked from Theon to Robb, then to the other men in the room.

"No Theon, you did not," he said, his tone kinder then. "But Renly seems to think that this is a game. Not enough for him to rush his response to Robb's letter, but to assume that everyone will support him instead of his _older_ brother Stannis is just another display of his foolishness. And that's before taking into account his promise of a hundred swords to me the day before my arrest." Robb heard a slight bitterness in his father's tone. "And this nonsense about King's Landing being the real prize?" Eddard shook his head, an annoyed look on his face. "Japes and games is all he seems to think about. Never did I think that the day would come that I would curse Robert and his kin." Robb frowned at those words, surprised at the venom in his father's voice. _Something has changed you father_ , he realised. _Has your time in the black cells made you distrust those of the south_? Before he could speak a word Eddard looked at Theon. "Theon, go and find both my wife Lady Catelyn and my son Jon," he spoke. Hearing those words made Robb's eyes widen. _Despite everything he's said he still calls Jon 'son'. Have you at least told him that father? Or will you only say that with me and mother around_? Robb shook his head at his thoughts, and felt some amount of shame for thinking like that. "I want them to go to the great hall as soon as they can."

"Yes my lord," Theon spoke with a bow before leaving the room. As he walked away Eddard sighed.

"It's time for us all to speak about this conflict and where we are going with it," he said as he walked to the table and took a seat. "All of you, go find everyone else and have them gather in the great hall. Robb, stay here for now, I need your opinion on a couple of matters." The others all left the room, leaving Robb alone with his father. Greatjon patted him on the shoulder as he walked past while Ser Brynden gave him a small smile. Once it was just them Eddard gestured to him to take a seat.

"What matters do you need my opinion on?" he asked. Eddard sighed before looking at him.

"The successions of Hornwood and the Dreadfort," he said. "I would like to hear what your thoughts are on those matters." Robb shifted on his seat to get himself comfortable and then he looked his father in the eye.

"I have not thought much on the Dreadfort, as Lord Bolton only died a few days ago," he said, keeping his voice steady while under his father's stern gaze. "But I have some thoughts on Hornwood." Eddard nodded his head.

"Go on son," he said encouragingly. Robb took a deep breath and then began.

"Ser Helman Tallhart's brother, Ser Leobald, is married to Lady Berena Hornwood, Lord Halys's sister," Robb started. "She has two sons by Ser Leobald, Brandon and Beren. One of them could be taken to Hornwood and given the Hornwood name as they are descendants of Hornwood through the female line, so that is one solution. The other solution lies with the bastard son of Lord Halys, a lad called Larence Snow. Of course we would need consent from Lord Halys's widow, Lady Donella, who might not like her husband's bastard becoming heir." Eddard leaned forward then, putting one hand on the table while the other stayed by his side.

"So that gives us three possible candidates to resolve the Hornwood succession," he said, sounding impressed. "Well done Robb. How would you go about resolving it though?" Robb gulped at his father's question before thinking it over. After a minute he shook his head.

"I must admit that I am torn at the moment," he said. "Brandon Tallhart is the older of the three at thirteen, having been born just over a year after the end of Robert's Rebellion, and Larence is twelve. But as Benfred is Ser Helman's only son it might be wiser to favour Beren, even though he is nearly ten. So I would choose either Larence or Beren." Eddard raised a brow at Robb's choice.

"But not Brandon?" he asked.

"If something were to happen to Benfred then Brandon would become the Heir to Torrhen's Square in his stead," Robb replied, uncomfortable with the idea of Benfred dying. Robb has known Benfred for many years and has played with him as a child in the past whenever Benfred travelled with his father Ser Helman from their home to Winterfell. The thought of anything foul happening to Benfred made Robb feel slightly sick. "So with that in mind, it would have to be either Larence or Beren." Eddard nodded his head before speaking.

"We would need to learn more about both boys before making such a decision," he stated. "At his age Beren can still be taught much about being a lord, so as long as he shows promise then he would be an ideal choice. Larence is a bit older, but he could learn just as fast and could come to lordship quicker." Eddard smiled slightly at this. "Good reasoning there Robb," he said with some pride in his voice. "You're doing well so far." Robb smiled back before looking away to the side and frowning.

"As for the Dreadfort," Robb began. "All I know is that Lord Bolton has a bastard son named Ramsey, who from what I have heard is quite an unpleasant person." He looked back at his father who leaned back in his seat.

"In what way is Ramsey unpleasant?" Eddard asked. Robb sighed before leaning forward in his seat, clasping his hands together.

"From what I have heard Ramsey Snow is quite a sadistic fellow. He is rumoured to have an unhealthy lust for peasant women. One rumour I have heard from one of Lord Karstark's men is that Lord Bolton's bastard has even abducted such women and played foul games with them, some ending in rape and murder. There is even talk about him flaying his victims." Robb looked at his father the whole time he talked, and spoke calmly as he did. Eddard frowned as he spoke, and when Robb finished he stood up, wincing as he did.

"Rumours do not normally describe a person's true character," he said as he walked around the table. "Anyone can start a rumour about someone for any reason, good or ill. But in some cases there is a grain of truth to rumours." Eddard stopped and looked down at Robb, his hands held behind his back. "How many rumours have you heard about Ramsey Snow?" he asked him. Robb stood up from his seat and faced his father, looking into his old grey eyes.

"Many," he said. "And every single rumour that I have heard has spoken ill of Ramsey Snow, including a couple from Lord Bolton's men." His father held his gaze before nodding his head.

"Then we will have to learn more about this bastard of Bolton's," he said. "If any of these rumours are true, then having such a claimant to the Dreadfort will be bad for the North. So if we cannot make Ramsey the next Lord Bolton, what do we do about this issue?" Robb thought about this for a minute, trying to figure out a good solution. He knew his father was testing him, seeing what he would decide as a means of judging how well he was doing with being a lord, and while a part of Robb was annoyed with him for it he also enjoyed it as it made him feel like he was being trusted with more responsibilities. After a moment Robb answered his father's question.

"If we cannot find an heir of the Bolton line then we have to give the Dreadfort to a lord that we trust," he said. "We would have to take some of the lands and divide them up between loyal lords, such as the Umbers and Karstarks who are north of the Bolton lands, and the Manderlys and Hornwoods who are south of those lands. As for the Dreadfort itself, we need a man we trust to govern the lands sworn to the Lord of the Dreadfort. A respected man, preferably with a good name." Robb kept eye contact with his father the whole time he spoke as Eddard walked around the room. After he finished talking Eddard stopped by a bookshelf and rested his hand on it before looking back at him.

"You've learned a lot from me over the last few years Robb," he said with a slight smile. Robb inclined his head at that and smiled in return. Eddard tapped his fingers against the shelf before turning around and walking to the door. "Now, we have dallied here long enough. Let's go down to the great hall and meet with our bannermen. We have a decision to make, and we need to come to an agreement soon." Robb watched his father walk out of the room, and after a moment's hesitation he followed him, closing the door to the room behind him. He had opened his mouth to talk but then decided to keep his peace; he wanted to speak with his father about Jon, but he was still trying to think about what he wanted to say to his father. _My head is still in such a mess over this_ , he thought. _I want to lash out at him myself, but that won't achieve a damn thing. And I still don't know what to say to him about this._ He looked at his father ahead of him, who had stopped at a door to let him catch up. _Gods damn it all, I can't deal with this just now_ , he decided. _I'll leave it for now. I need to focus on the night ahead_.

Robb and his father made their way down to the great hall, where his mother and Jon were both waiting. Theon was stood nearby, with Harrion and Torrhen next to him. Smalljon and Dacey were talking with Lord Dondarrion, who then approached Eddard and bowed slightly to him.

"Lord Stark," the Lightning Lord said. "I am glad to see you free of the Lannisters clutches. I am sorry that I failed you in trying to bring Clegane to justice. If I had realised that we were being lured into a trap..." Eddard gripped the man's shoulder and cut him off.

"The fault is not yours Lord Dondarrion," Eddard said. "If I had known that it was a ploy of Tywin Lannister's to try to lure me out then I would've tried a different approach myself." Lord Dondarrion bowed his head at those words. During his journey to Riverrun Robb had spoken with his prisoners when he could, and just before reaching Harrenhal he learned from Tywin Lannister himself that he had been sending men like Clegane to sack the Riverlands in a bid to draw Robb's father out from the capitol so he could capture him and trade him for his son Tyrion after Robb's mother took the Imp prisoner. Upon learning that Robb told the lords what he was told, and the news was met with outrage. Greatjon had vowed to tear Tywin Lannister in half for such a ploy, and it took both Robb and Smalljon to calm him down. Word quickly spread among the ranks of the Lannister Lord's ploy, and it was soon common knowledge. "I have heard that you led the men in the assault in the Whispering Wood?" Robb watched as Lord Dondarrion flinched at the reminder of what the man felt was a personal failing on his part. Robb did not blame him for the foolishness of Ryman Frey, but the Stormlander seemed to think it was a failing he was responsible for.

"Aye my lord," he said.

"And you did brilliantly Lord Dondarrion," Robb cut in before he could berate himself again. "We may have lost men, but your charge may very well have saved more men from being slaughtered." Lord Dondarrion smiled at Robb's praise and then stood to the side to allow both Robb and his father to walk on to the high table. Eddard sat down two chairs along from the high seat (which Ser Edmure would take in his father's stead as acting Lord of Riverrun), with Catelyn sitting on his left and Robb taking the seat on his right. To Robb's right sat Theon and then Jon; to his mother's left sat her brother Ser Edmure and her uncle Ser Brynden beside him. Soon after all of the others began to take their own seats. Brynden and Lucas Blackwood sat as far away from Lord Jonos Bracken as they could, while Lord Jason Mallister sat beside Lord Stevron Frey, who since exiling his own son looked even older than he did before. Galbart Glover and his brother Robett sat next to the Blackwood men with Lady Maege Mormont and her daughter Dacey sitting next to them. All three of the Karstarks were sitting beside the Mormont women with Greatjon Umber and his son Smalljon seated beside them. As he looked at the seating Robb found it odd that the Glover brothers sat far from the Umbers, who their House has had a fierce rivalry with for centuries, but willingly sat beside the Blackwoods, who before being exiled from the North thousands of years ago were petty kings in the Wolfswood whom the Glovers had waged war with a few times as well. _And House Stark made them all give up their crowns thousands of years ago_ , he mused. _They all bend to my family with little or no problems at all, but put them in a room by themselves and they will never get on at all, let alone come to a decision_. Robb knew that they would argue once the talking began.

And argue they did. Every lord had a right to talk, and they did just that. They talked, and shouted, and cursed, and japed, and threatened, and walked out of the room before coming back a time later either having calmed down a lot or just becoming less angry. Everyone had the right to say their piece, and everyone did. Robb watched the whole thing quietly, as did his father. Not once did either speak out. When Greatjon and Galbart Glover started to threaten one another neither Robb nor Eddard spoke up. When Jonos Bracken argued with Brynden and Lucas Blackwood neither Robb nor Eddard spoke up. For hours the meeting went on, right up into the night. Thankfully not one lord had drawn a sword in anger yet, which Robb was grateful for, but he knew that given time someone would draw their steel. Some lords argued to take the fight head on to King's Landing and lay siege to it, while others said they should assault the Westerlands, an idea that Robb agreed with. Lord Stevron said they should stay where they were and see what happens; Riverrun stands athwart the Lannisters main route to King's Landing, so they could all sit and watch and launch attacks against the Westermen should they try to reinforce the capitol. The Glovers agreed with him, as did some others, but Greatjon would have none of it, stating that they should march on to the borders and smash the Westermen before they march. Lord Brynden Blackwood suggested that they should go further and sack the Westerlands, and go so far as to take Casterly Rock. Of course whatever a Blackwood suggests a Bracken argues against, and Lord Jonos stated that they should march south and pledge fealty to King Renly.

"Renly is not the King!" Robb called out then, deciding to add his voice to the debate. The great hall fell silent then as everyone turned to him. Robb felt his father's eyes on him as well.

"Surely you don't mean to hold to Joffrey my lord? He wanted to put your father to the sword," Galbart Glover spoke up.

"That makes the bastard evil, but I fail to see how that makes Renly a king," Robb replied.

"Renly has been crowned," Ser Marq Piper said, standing up. The blond haired knight who is the Heir to Pinkmaiden Castle looked around the hall. "We have the might of the North and the Riverlands assembled here, and Renly has both Storm's End and Highgarden backing him, and the Dornish won't be laggardly. Once the Vale joins us properly, Joffrey and his mother will be surrounded by the combined might of six of the kingdoms. Why should we not bend to Renly my lords?" Before Robb could answer his father stood up, hissing slightly in pain no doubt from putting too much pressure on his leg from standing up too quickly.

"Because he is the _next_ in line Ser Marq," Eddard said, his voice echoing through the hall. "By the laws of succession Stannis is the rightful King. Renly can only ever be his heir until he finally has a son."

"Lord Stark is right," Maege Mormont said from her seat as she slammed her cup down hard on the table. "Stannis's claim is the stronger." There was some muttering of agreement then from various lords.

"Do you mean to declare us for Stannis my lord?" Lord Karstark asked gruffly then. Robb looked up at his father who he noticed was looking around the hall at everyone that was sat there.

"No," he said. "Stannis Baratheon's men attacked me and my daughters as we were making our way to Harrenhal. Those who travelled with us were cut down without mercy, even those who were clearly not combatants." Gasps of shock and anger rippled throughout the hall then. "I will not support Renly either. Before I was arrested he offered me one-hundred swords to secure the Red Keep if I aided him. I told him that I would need those swords the following day when I went to take Joffrey and his mother into custody, but I would not support him in usurping his brother. Stannis I have been informed has taken to a foreign religion and intends to make it the dominant faith. His advisor, a red priestess from across the Narrow Sea, has already converted him and wants to burn the septs and the godswoods as offerings to her god." Cries of outrage went up across the hall then, and Robb felt a cold anger surging through him at this news. Eddard held his hand up for silence, and everyone complied. "Renly has the backing of Mace Tyrell, and is just as bad as Robert was when it comes to tourneys and other extravagances that the Seven Kingdoms could do without." A silence fell across the hall then, before Dacey spoke up.

"So we have a king who would make us forsake our gods and burn down our godswoods, as well as the septs," she said, hastily adding the last part. "And we have a king who would drag all of us into financial ruin. Neither seem like good choices to me." There were more murmurs of agreement then, before Lord Stevron stood up.

"My lord, if I may?" he asked, looking at Robb's father who nodded for him to continue. "We are in a rather unique position. We hold a man who was once regarded as the most powerful man in all of the Seven Kingdoms. That alone negates one threat, and leaves this conflict with only three effective factions. I say we let both Baratheon Kings fight over the Iron Throne while Joffrey and his mother try to defend it. We have all heard what Lord Eddard has said about Queen Cersei's children. I say we let those factions fight each other before either allying or fighting whomever is left. And let's go further. We hold leverage over the Westerlands in the form of their liege lord, so let us convince them to send what's left of their forces to fight against the Baratheons, making that fight a proper three-way fight without us needing to have our own blood spilled. My lords, if you let me go to Casterly Rock and convince the remaining Lannisters to direct their knights and men-at-arms to that conflict..." Lord Stevron was cut off by most of the lords there.

"Craven!" Greatjon roared, the idea of sending others to do his fighting for him not sitting well with him.

"Begging for a truce will make us look weak to the likes of those curs!" came the voice of Maege Mormont.

"Stuff any ideas for ransoms, we must not give up our prisoners!" Lord Rickard bellowed, no doubt thinking that Lord Stevron would have released Tywin Lannister in return for the Westerland's forces marching on the Baratheons.

"Why not make peace?" Robb heard his mother call out then, silencing everyone. Robb stood up and looked across at his mother, noticing that his father was also looking at her.

"My lady, the Lannisters sacked my grandfather's lands, put his small folk to the sword, burned the fields of his farms, and their puppet on the throne wanted to take the head of my father, your husband," he said to her. Robb then drew his sword from his hip and placed it on the table in front of him before pointing to it. "This is the only peace that I will give the Lannisters." The lords in the hall roared out in approval at his words, banging their fists on the tables; some of them were even drawing their swords in support of Robb. Eddard turned to look at him and raised a brow, and gave a slight smirk at his boldness. Robb inclined his head before taking his seat again. His father sat down also, but his mother remained standing.

"We set out to get your father and sisters free and to drive the Lannisters out of my father's lands Robb," she said. "We have managed to achieve both of our goals, and we have the Westerlands at our mercy. Must we have more bloodshed?" Robb heard a chuckle from the tables in front and turned to look at Greatjon.

"You are a woman, my lady, and most women do not understand these things," he said.

"You are of the gentle sex. A man has a need for vengeance," the Lord of Karhold said from beside Greatjon, drawing looks of disgust from both Mormont women sat next to him.

"Greatjon, Rickard," Robb heard his father speak in a warning tone then, and Lord Rickard bowed his head apologetically while Greatjon just smirked like a mischievous boy.

"Give me Cersei Lannister Lord Karstark, and I'll show you how gentle a woman can be," Catelyn said. Robb noticed Dacey smirking at his mother's words while Maege nodded her approval. "I might not understand war my lords, but I understand futility. With there being three other sides in this conflict why should we march out again? The lords of the Westerlands will not set foot in the Riverlands while we hold Tywin Lannister and both of his sons and Cersei will command them to help reinforce King's Landing. Both of the Baratheons will be so focused on each other and the Iron Throne that they will not care a whit for us." Robb looked at his mother as she turned to face him. "Robb, I want you to go back home, to kiss a girl and marry and have children of your own, to grow old and secure without having to go to war. Ned, I want us all to return to Winterfell and see our children grow and marry and give us grandchildren. We don't need to have our own spill their blood anymore, not when there is no need." Catelyn looked back to the hall again, and when she spoke her voice was almost pleading. "I want us all to go home my lords, and live our lives with our loved ones in peace."

There was a silence throughout the great hall of Riverrun after Catelyn's little speech. Robb was impressed with his mother's words, and even saw the wisdom. He had no doubt that his father was of an equal mind and just wanted to go back home, but Robb felt that he was not finished with this fight just yet. Not while that incest-born bastard still sat the throne. Before either he or his father could speak the Blackfish spoke out.

"Peace is sweet my lady, but on who's terms? It's no good hammering your sword into a ploughshare if you must forge it anew come the morrow." Robb clasped his hands in front of his face to hide the slight smirk at his great-uncle's words.

"What did my Eddard die for if I am to go back to Karhold with nought but his bones?" Lord Rickard said. Robb looked at him and noticed that both Harrion and Torrhen looked down at the table in front of them, their eyes full of sorrow as they remembered their dead brother.

"Gregor Clegane sacked my castle, burned my fields, put my small folk to the sword and raped one of my daughters," Jonos Bracken stated, rising up as he did. "That foul beast may lie dead, and I am forever grateful to Ser Wylis for bringing justice upon him, but those who sent him still need to be punished. Or am I now to bow to those who sent him?" The Lord of Stone Hedge spoke with anger in his voice, clearly devastated by what has happened to his family.

"Bracken's right," the new Lord Blackwood said, surprising Robb. He watched as Brynden stood up from his seat. "We need to make sure the lions are dealt with properly. Those bastards brought death to our lands, we should pay them back in their own coin; sack their mines of all gold, take their crops and livestock for our own, and burn their wretched castles to the ground." Lord Brynden spoke with a fury in his voice, a blood-lust for vengeance that he has had since his father Lord Tytos died.

"And whatever the rest of you lords may have decided for yourselves, I will _never_ call a Lannister my king!" Ser Marq declared loudly for all to hear.

"Nor I!" came the voice of little Lyman Darry, a boy the same age as Robb's brother Bran, and after the death of his father Ser Raymun Darry he was now the Lord of Darry. "I never will!" Robb admired the little boy for his courage, but at the same time he felt sorry for him. _The last male of his House. If he dies then House Darry dies with him the poor lad_. Soon after that the lords began to shout again, arguing about what to do and who to support. It lasted for only five minutes when Greatjon Umber stood up from his chair, smashing his giant fist into the table beneath him.

"MY LORDS!" he bellowed, his voice drowning out every other voice in the great hall. "Here's what I say to these two kings," he said as he walked around the table to stand in front of Robb and his father. In the next moment Greatjon spat onto the floor, earning a few chuckles. "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me. Nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in Highgarden or Dorne?" He looked around the room, waiting for an answer, but none was forthcoming. "What do they know of the Wall, or the Wolfswood, or the Barrows of the First Men? Even their gods are wrong!" That statement got quite a few laughs from most of the lords, apart from those who kept the Seven. "The Others take the Lannisters too, I've had a bellyful of them." As the laughing died down Robb watched as Greatjon reached over his back and drew that massive greatsword of his free of its scabbard. "Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again?" he said, and Robb felt a chill run up his spine as he realised what the man was doing. "It was the dragons we bowed to, and now the dragons are dead!" Greatjon then turned to face Robb's father and pointed the tip of his greatsword at him. " _There_ , sits the only king I'll bend my knee to milords. The King in the North!" And with that the Lord of Last Hearth bent his knee and placed his sword down upon the floor in front of where Eddard sat. Robb blinked at what he just witnessed, shocked by it. He turned to look at his father, who was slowly standing up from his seat, his face an emotionless mask. When Eddard had reached his full height Lord Rickard stood up next.

"I'll have peace on those terms!" he stated as he walked to stand beside Greatjon, gripping his longsword. "They can keep their red castle, and their iron chair too!" The Lord of Karhold drew his sword from his hip and bent his knee, placing his sword next to Greatjon's sword. "The King in the North!" he yelled as he stood up. Maege Mormont was next to rise to her feet, followed by her daughter, both with looks of pride on their faces.

"The King of Winter!" the Lady of Bear Island shouted as she added her spiked mace to the pile in front of Robb's father, Dacey quickly adding her mace as well. As they stepped back Robb noticed that Greatjon was looking up at him with a wide grin on his face, before he looked back at Eddard.

"THE KING IN THE NORTH!" he shouted louder than Robb has ever heard him shout before, and soon the great hall of Riverrun was filled with the voice of every lord and knight within; both Glover brothers, Robin Flint, Harrion and his brother Torrhen and every other Northman, and even Robb's uncle Ser Edmure, and Jason Mallister and Brynden Blackwood and Jonos Bracken, lords who have not answered to Winterfell ever, all were drawing their swords and adding them to the growing pile of blades in front of Robb and his father, and soon their voices were so loud that some of those camped just outside of Riverrun's walls would no doubt be hearing the declaration, one that has not been heard in nearly three-hundred years since King Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror.

"THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

"THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

"THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

For what seemed like forever the chant continued, Robb stunned by this turn of events, but not nearly as stunned as his father was if the look in Eddard's eyes was anything to go by. The rest of the night passed him in a blur, as lords and knights picked up their swords or maces or in one or two cases axes, everyone of them swearing an oath of fealty to Eddard. Robb noticed that both Theon and Jon were smirking, in Jon's case ever so slightly. _Of all the things that could've happened tonight_ , Robb thought as he stood up from his chair. His mother and father were both now stood off to the side speaking with each other as well as Ser Edmure and Ser Brynden. Greatjon and Lord Rickard sat down each with a drink in hand while Maege and Dacey Mormont spoke with the Blackwood brothers. Robin Flint conversed with Jonos Bracken as Galbart Glover offered a cup of mead to Lord Dondarrion, whose squire Edric Dayne was just sat their looking mesmerised by everything and everyone around him. Theon had wandered off, no doubt to find some female company, leaving Robb with Jon. Robb decided to leave the great hall behind, and Jon followed him. They both stood outside, breathing in the crisp night air. It was not as cold as it was in the North, but it was still cool enough to be refreshing.

"So then, what shall we do this evening my prince?" Jon said in a mocking tone.

"Well..." Robb began before he turned and glared at Jon, who just laughed. "Laugh it off Jon," he said as he punched his arm lightly. Jon rubbed his arm where Robb hit him but still laughed.

"Seven hells Robb, you should've seen the look on your face," Jon said when he eventually calmed down. Robb shook his head at that as he walked off to Riverrun's guest quarters, Jon walking beside him. "Still, in all seriousness Robb, do you think Lord Stark will accept this?" Robb looked at Jon and gave him a small smile.

"Well, he'll bloody well have to now," he answered. "Unless he intends to put someone else on the Iron Throne." Robb watched as Jon looked away then, his face going all serious then. "Did you and father speak about much when he called you away earlier?" he asked him. Jon looked at him briefly before looking back where he was walking, nodding his head.

"Aye, we did," Jon said. "We spoke about..." Jon trailed off and looked over his shoulder to make sure that no one was nearby to listen in. "We spoke about Rhaegar Targaryen and my mother. Regardless of the truth I can never call Rhaegar my father, not after what he did to my mother. Your father told me a lot more than what he said to us both earlier today. One thing he said was that if I wanted to I could take whatever name I could, even the Stark name, but not the Targaryen name." Jon snorted then, a humourless laugh escaping from him afterwards. "Not that I would ever want to. There was no marriage between Rhaegar and Lyanna, so I'm still a bastard. Just a bastard born of rape." Robb looked at Jon sharply then.

"Come on Jon, don't let this get you down," he said. Jon gave him a soft smile that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"One thing I asked your father was if he loved me," he continued. Robb watched him patiently, letting Jon take his time to answer. "He told me that he did and still does. I asked him how could he love me considering how I came to be. He could have killed me or given me to King Robert to deal with but he chose to keep me. He reminded me of the promise he made to my mother, and also added that he could care for me and love me as his own because I was his sister's child." Jon stopped walking and looked at Robb, gazing into his eyes. "He cared not who my father was, only that I was Lyanna's child, and he said that that was enough reason for him to raise me at the cost of his own honour." Jon fell silent then, and gazed off to the side.

"I can't see even a trace of Targaryen in you Jon," Robb said. "You're a Stark through and through. Father saw to that raising you back home. And I meant what I said earlier. There will _always_ be a place for you by my side." Jon smiled warmly at that, and it lifted Robb's spirits to see that smile. It was the first proper smile Jon has had for a long time it seemed.

"Thank you, my prince," he said, and Robb scoffed.

"For fucks sake Jon, don't bloody well start with that nonsense," he told him.

"Blame Lord Umber Robb," Jon replied. "Like it or not, that's your new title." Robb frowned as Jon laughed. "Robb Stark, Crown Prince of Winterfell. It suits you well I think, brother." Robb smiled at that last comment, and the two threw their arms over their shoulders and walked along the corridor. Before long they were japing and laughing, all thoughts from earlier in the day cast aside for now, and then for whatever reason they began to sing 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair', rather poorly, as they walked along the corridor.

They had gotten near to the end of the song when they had reached the floor that their guest chambers were on. As they rounded the corner they were confronted by both Sansa and Arya, who were looking very annoyed with them.

"Will you two shut up!" Arya snapped. "We could hear the pair of you when you were two floors down." Robb and Jon burst out laughing at Arya chiding them. Sansa frowned at them, her arms folded and eyes glaring at them the way mother would glare at them.

"Our apologies princess," Robb said after they calmed down, trying to keep a straight face. Jon just started to laugh again while Arya just shook her head. She had opened her mouth to speak but then she could not find any words.

"Wait," she said after a moment. "Did you just call me princess?" she asked sounding very offended.

"He did Arya," Jon answered having finally stopped laughing. Sansa looked at them both with a confused look.

"Only royal girls can ever be called princess, and we are not royals," she stated. Robb looked over at his sister and smirked.

"Did you not hear the chanting from the great hall from up here?" he asked her. Sansa shook her head, and Arya just stared at him.

"What's that got to do with you calling me princess?" she demanded. Robb looked over to Jon, and nodded his head to him. Jon frowned at him before sighing.

"The chanting in the great hall was started by Lord Umber," he told the girls. "Soon after he started all of the other lords and ladies took up the chant. They had laid their swords at your father's feet and declared him the King in the North." Sansa gasped in shock at that, her hand going up to cover her mouth.

"So, we're..." she trailed off as the realisation hit her. As Sansa smiled widely, no doubt at the thought of being a princess, Arya looked beyond horrified.

"Oh no way!" she said. "Seven hells! No way am I going to be a princess!" Robb and Jon both chuckled at that.

"Well you're stuck with that title now Arya," Robb told her. He watched as his younger sister stormed off, muttering under her breath, while Sansa just walked gracefully back to the room that she was sharing with Arya, a look of wonder on her face.

"I can almost imagine what your mother will have to put up with tomorrow once she sees Arya," Jon said with a smirk. Robb laughed in response and then they both walked to their separate rooms, bidding each other good night before going to get some rest. As Robb lay down on the bed he thought not about the conflict that was still going on, but about his family and how it had changed. _Father still has a lot of explaining to do_ , Robb decided as he pulled the fur covers over him. _It'll take a lot of time for Jon to adjust. I don't think he can forgive father so quickly. I know I can't. But it makes little difference to me. Jon has always been my brother._

 _And he always will be_...

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So yeah. That's how it's going.

I decided to go with the North declaring independence from the Iron Throne. At the end of the day, as many reviewers have pointed out, there is no way that anyone would want Jon on the Iron Throne; he is the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, and many would resent Lyanna for being responsible (albeit partly) for the War of the Usurper. The Northmen would not wish to see the Targaryens brought back, not even through Jon; they would simply have concerns about whether or not Jon would go the way of Aerys. That's my opinion on the matter anyway.

Jon's response to Ned telling him the truth about his mother is how I picture it happening, regardless of whether Ned told him alone or with other family around. I cannot see Jon lashing out at Ned despite having had the truth kept from him for all of his life up to that point. Jon doesn't hate Cat, but he does resent her for her treatment of him over the years. And yes he is a little freaked out by Sansa's new-found affection for him. We'll get his view on things in his next POV section. I don't yet know if that will be in the next chapter or the one after, but we'll see when we see.

Now just to remind you guys, this is a massive AU fic that will NOT have the White Walkers/Others showing up, nor will there be any dragons. I'm just stating that clearly for you all as I have had a couple of Private Messages asking how I will go about dealing with them, so I hope folk will read this and not ask about them. Pretty much any Game of Thrones/Song of Ice and Fire fic I do will not feature the ancient enemy of mankind in this universe, at least not until the time comes that the whole series (books and TV show) is finally done. THEN, I might do a fic with the Others bearing down on us mortals.

Anyway, enough of my inane rambling. I hope you guys have enjoyed this chapter, and indeed this whole story so far. I've still got a bit to do (once I kick start my brain again, lol) so this story is not yet done. We will see the Company of the Rose in a few chapters time (in this sort of world news doesn't travel that fast) and we will see what happens else where in Westeros too. So anyway, let me know what you guys think of this so far (and as ever, no flames please, thank you), and I hope you continue to enjoy my story as we carry on.


	9. The Declaration

**Author's Note:** Warning for some smut later on. So in this chapter we get to see what is going on with Margaery and Cersei, as well as getting another POV from a character whose family we will see some more of later on. Enjoy.

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 **Chapter 9**

 **The Declaration**

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Horas

It had been months since Horas and his twin Hobber had been home. The Arbor was the seat of House Redwyne, one of the more powerful Houses of the Reach, and sworn to the Tyrells of Highgarden. Horas and Hobber had left to take part in the Tourney of the Hand, which the late King Robert had organised to honour the appointment of Lord Eddard Stark as his new Hand. Horas had been unhorsed after beating a couple of opponents while his younger twin got a little bit further. After the tourney had ended they both stayed in King's Landing for a little bit longer, and then King Robert died on a hunt. After that the two of them were held as hostages after the arrest of Lord Stark. Hobber believed what they were told about the Lord of Winterfell plotting to remove King Robert's son and take the Iron Throne for his own family, but Horas was not so sure about that allegation; it was well known that Lord Stark and King Robert were close friends as children, and therefore Horas could not find the allegation believable. Then the impossible happened; Lord Stark had escaped from the black cells where he was being held for his supposed treason. King Joffrey was in uproar, demanding that the Gold Cloaks find him and deliver his head to him. What made it even more amusing (to Horas anyway) was that Lord Stark's daughter Lady Sansa had also escaped from right under Joffrey's nose.

While the city was under lock down after the escapes Horas and his twin planned their own escape which involved boarding a ship called the Moonrunner, a Pentoshi trading galley that Horas had learned was going to sail for Oldtown down in the Reach, which would take them close to home. Horas was able to get a message out to a man that he had befriended during the tourney, a lowly hedge knight who had disgraced himself during the tourney when he accidentally killed the horse of Lord Dondarrion of Blackhaven. With the promise of gold and ale the man was able to get the Pentoshi merchants to agree to accept them onto the ship, which was a plan that nearly ended in disaster when Hobber decided to rescue some poor lass who had run from one of Littlefinger's brothels.

It was six days after Lord Stark's escape when Horas and Hobber had lured their guards into the room they were kept in and knocked them out before tying them up and gagging them, then they hid the men in their room and stood outside, wearing their armour and posing as their guards. Barely a couple of minutes had passed before two guards came to relieve them, which allowed them to leave. They had left the Red Keep in their disguise at night time and were halfway to the docks when the dark haired girl had burst out of the brothel screaming, in floods of tears and wearing only a simple dress that one usually finds worn by a whore. She was being chased by a couple of rough looking men, one with a club in his hand, and Hobber chased after them. Horas cursed his brother as he followed after him, yelling at him that they did not have time, and after running for five minutes they eventually caught up with the two men who were pinning the girl against a wall. Horas watched in horror as they spread her legs and got ready to rape her, and before he realised what he was doing he had his sword drawn and had killed the first man while Hobber killed the other. The girl was afraid of them until Horas took off his helm, then the girl recognised him saying that she saw him compete at the tourney. The three of them walked away from the alley and eventually got to the Moonrunner just as it was about to sail away.

For the last couple of weeks they were onboard the ship, standing idle as they waited to arrive at their destination. Horas spoke with the captain of the Moonrunner and learned that they were sailing to the Arbor first, which Horas was thankful for. The journey was uneventful until eight days in when a pirate vessel sailed up to attack. Horas and Hobber both had their swords drawn and fought the pirates, killing several of them when they both came face to face with a tall muscular built man with a blade that Horas realised was made of Valyrian steel. The man had the ebony skin of a Summer Islander, and Horas thought that the man was good looking enough to draw a woman's attention. He had also been a vicious fighter, and had wounded Horas after only half a minute of fighting. Hobber put up a good fight, but the pirate captain thrust his sword into Hobber's leg, putting him out of the fight. Horas got back onto his feet and fought back, and was able to get the advantage when the captain was distracted by another man charging at him. The pirate cut the man in half, and Horas swiped his sword through his legs, sending him screaming onto the deck. Horas picked up the man's Valyrian steel sword and thrust it into his throat, killing him. After their captain's death the pirates fled back to their ship and sailed away.

After the pirate attack the rest of the journey was quiet. Hobber was patched up by the healer on the ship while Horas looked over his own cuts and bruises. The girl had come up to help with putting Hobber's bandages on, and that was the first time that they had seen her since they boarded the Moonrunner. The ship was now only a couple of hours away from docking at the Arbor, and Horas was standing on the deck, breathing in the sea air. His shield arm was bandaged up, covering the cut on his forearm where the pirate's blade had sliced into him. They said that a cut from a Valyrian steel blade hurt a lot more than the cut from a blade forged from any other metal; Horas found himself agreeing with that saying. _Still, I got a trophy from that fight_ , he thought with a grin as he ran his fingers over the edge of the blade. The sword was a hand-and-a-halfer, or a bastard sword as they are more commonly called. It was longer than the blade of a longsword but not as long or as heavy as a greatsword. Horas had never seen a blade of Valyrian steel before, and was mesmerised with it.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" a voice asked from beside him. Horas looked to the side and saw Jeyne, the girl he and Hobber had saved. She was looking at him with a sad face, which she has had since they saved her. Horas had wondered what had happened to her while she was at the brothel, but he did not ask her.

"Yes, it is beautiful," Horas agreed as he looked back to the Arbor. "My father's fleet will become clearer to see when we get closer. The Arbor is separated from the mainland by the Redwyne Straits, and produces the best wines in the Seven Kingdoms, better than the piss you get from Dorne," he said absent mindedly. He was about to apologise for his language when Jeyne giggled. It was a lovely sound to Horas's ears. He looked back at her and looked into her brown eyes, which despite the giggles were full of sadness.

"I wasn't talking about the Arbor Ser Horas," she told him. "I was talking about the sword." Horas chuckled as Jeyne sat down on a barrel that was beside him. She was wearing a simple green dress that suited her better than the rags that she had to wear when she was at the brothel, and she looked better than she did as well. "I've seen Valyrian steel once before, back home," she said as she leant forward and propped her chin on her hand. "My best friend's father has a sword of Valyrian steel. We both went into the godswood once after he had returned from some business and saw him cleaning the blade by a pool in front of the weirwood tree." Horas looked at her as she spoke, and saw her eyes brighten up at the talk of her past.

"You've not spoken much about where you're from my lady," Horas said after a few moments of silence. "Where is your home?" Jeyne looked down at the deck, her face falling as a lone tear ran down her face.

"Winterfell," she said quietly. "My father is..." she stopped herself as she fought back the tears that were threatening to erupt from her eyes. "He was the steward at Winterfell. I'm his only living child. My best friend is the eldest daughter of Lord Stark." Horas looked at her with wide eyes. He vaguely remembered seeing Lady Sansa Stark at the tourney, a young girl with lovely auburn hair and dazzling blue eyes that caught his attention. She had pale skin and a warm smile, but seemed out of place in the hot south. As he thought of her he also remembered seeing a dark haired girl sitting beside her, who had left after the Mountain had killed that unfortunate knight from the Vale. At first he had thought that girl to be Lady Sansa's sister, but now...

"You were at the Tourney of the Hand sitting beside Lady Sansa, weren't you?" he asked her. Jeyne looked up at him and nodded her head. "I... I'm sorry, at the time I had thought that you were her sister." Jeyne looked up at him sharply before she burst out laughing. Horas watched her as she laughed for quite some time before she got herself under control.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but that's just the funniest thing I've heard in a long while." She got herself under control, taking a deep breath before she continued. "Arya, Sansa's sister, was not at the tourney at all, but if she was she wouldn't have gone away at the sight of a little drop of blood."

"Blood doesn't frighten her?" he asked. Jeyne gave a weak smile as she stood up.

"Arya's not a normal girl," she said. "She prefers to run around wearing boys shirts and breeches rather than a dress, and prefers swords over needlework. She's actually pretty cute despite her behaviour." Jeyne trailed off then, her face becoming solemn.

"What's wrong?" Horas asked her as he noticed another tear slip from her eye. She looked back at him and took a shuddering breath.

"I've just realised that that was the nicest thing I have ever said about her," she said, her voice taking on a guilty tone. "I... I've always been mean to her, calling her Arya Horseface and other nasty names, but not once have I been nice to her, and now she could be dead for all I know." Jeyne broke down into tears and hid her face behind her hands. Horas sheathed the sword and walked over to her, kneeling down next to her and gently gripping her arm.

"Come on, just let it out," he said softly. "We've all been rotten to people growing up." As he said that he remembered a few years ago when Lord Tarly sent his son Samwell to serve Horas's father as a page. The brief time Samwell was at the Arbor Horas and Hobber picked on and humiliated him over his weight and lack of courage.

"It's not that," Jeyne said, her eyes puffy and red as she looked at him. "The last thing I said to her after she had upset Sansa was that I hope something terrible happened to her. I haven't heard anything about her since Lord Stark was arrested by King Joffrey's men. What if she was killed? Or what if she... what if she suffered like I did?" Horas felt a surge of horror as Jeyne began to weep even more. He had suspected that Jeyne had suffered, but now he wished he could have remained ignorant of it. "I thought knights were supposed to be good," Jeyne said, her voice quiet. "But Lord Baelish's knights... did things to me..." _No, I don't need to hear this_ , Horas thought as he stood up and wrapped his arm over the poor girl's shoulder.

"Hush my lady," he interrupted. "Whatever you've gone through, it's over now." He looked down at Jeyne as he spoke, looking into her brown eyes. "Once we are on dry land I'll get my father to send the Maester to see you. I'll ask my mother and sister to be with you as well if it makes you comfortable." Jeyne gazed at him with wide eyes before she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him.

"Thank you," she whispered. Horas rubbed his hands over her back, holding her gently as if she were made of porcelain.

It had taken him a short while to calm Jeyne down, but when he did Horas took her below deck. There he stayed sitting beside Hobber who was looking dreadful; sweat was pouring from his forehead, his skin looked very pale, and he looked like he was staring off into the distance. He had been looking ill for the last few days, looking worse with each passing day. His wounded leg was wrapped up in fresh bandages just this morning, and the wound looked beyond vile. The healer on the Moonrunner said that if Hobber did not see a Maester soon then he would lose his leg. Looking down at his twin now made Horas want to choke up.

"Ho... Horas?" Hobber rasped weakly, his voice full of pain. "Horas, are you there?" Horas reached over and grasped Hobber's hand.

"I'm here brother," he said trying not to start crying.

"Are we home yet?" Hobber asked, his voice strained. Horas tried to smile for him, even though Hobber probably could not see him clearly.

"Almost Hobber," Horas told him. "You just hang on for a little bit longer. It won't be long until we dock at the Arbor. Then we'll be back with our parents. We can tell Desmera all about our adventures." Speaking about their sister brought a smile to Hobber's face.

"We'll be in trouble with her once we get back," he said as he laughed. "We've missed her fifteenth nameday." Horas laughed along with Hobber, both laughing until Hobber began to cough violently.

"Hobber?" Horas spoke worriedly. Hobber nodded his head, still coughing. Horas was about to call for help when the healer walked in calmly and got Hobber to drink something. Soon the coughing ceased, and Hobber slipped into unconsciousness. "What happened?" Horas asked the man who looked at him.

"Your brother's health is deteriorating fast milord," he said. "We must take him to your lord father's Maester as soon as we dock, or I fear Ser Hobber shall lose more than just his leg."

"MILORD!" a shout came from the deck above. Horas ran out of the cabin where Hobber was now sleeping and ran to the upper deck, just in case it was him being called for. He ran up and walked quickly to the port side where he saw a familiar looking ship sailing close by. Horas stopped at the side and looked over to see his distant cousin Ser Desmond Redwyne standing on said ship.

"IN THE NAME OF LORD PAXTER OF HOUSE REDWYNE, LORD OF THE ARBOR AND LORD ADMIRAL OF THE REDWYNE FLEET, STATE YOUR BUSINESS!" he bellowed out. Horas smirked as he pushed his way up to stand beside the captain of the Moonrunner and waved at Desmond.

"HEY COUSIN!" he shouted loudly. "IS THIS ANY WAY TO GREET THE HEIR OF THE ARBOR?" Desmond squinted his eyes as he looked at him, before shouting to his men. Horas looked along the ship and noticed that the men-at-arms onboard the ship began to lower their bows which he had just realised they had been aiming at the Moonrunner. _Just as well that I came up_ , he thought. A few minutes later the ship got close enough to allow Desmond to board with a handful of guards. Horas watched as his older cousin walked over to him, his face serious.

"Horas, it's good to see you," Desmond said. "Last we heard you and Hobber were being held by King Joffrey and his mother." Horas smirked at Desmond.

"We were, but we managed to escape," Horas said. "We need to dock now Desmond, Hobber's badly wounded." Desmond's eyes widened slightly.

"How badly?" he asked him.

Horas told Desmond of what had happened a few days ago with the pirates. As he spoke he showed Desmond to Hobber, who looked shocked at the sight of him. Desmond assured Horas that they would dock soon and then he left, walking back to his own ship. It took thirty minutes for the Moonrunner to arrive, and when it began to dock Horas saw a small group of men standing by. When the gangplank was lowered Horas saw his twin carried off and taken by those men who immediately took him to the Redwynes castle. He knew that if anyone could help Hobber, then Maester Ballabar can. Soon after Horas left the ship, thanking the captain and promising to get his father to pay him for the voyage. As he left he escorted Jeyne, keeping her close. During the walk up to the castle that Horas has called home all his life he noticed that Jeyne was quite nervous around the knights that were escorting them. _Poor girl_ , he thought. _What kind of knight harms a young girl_? As they reached the door of the castle Horas was greeted by a thin man with stooped shoulders and a balding head with only some tufts of orange hair left.

"My son," the man said.

"Father," Horas greeted him. Paxter Redwyne looked at him with relief, his smile reaching his eyes. The two men met halfway and embraced each other.

"Your mother has been worried sick," Paxter said when they separated. "I saw Hobber being taken to Ballabar. What happened?" Horas swallowed before explaining the pirates attack and the fight he and Hobber had with the pirate captain. After he had finished speaking his father nodded his head. "I'll go and see the captain of the Moonrunner then and pay him for bringing you back here. In the meantime you'd better go and see your mother and sister." As he began to walk away Paxter looked at Jeyne and frowned. "Who's this?" he asked. Horas looked at Jeyne and noticed that she seemed to shrink under his father's gaze.

"This is Jeyne," Horas answered. "Hobber and I saved her as we escaped King's Landing." Paxter bowed his head to her and walked off. Horas took hold of Jeyne's arm and escorted her inside the castle, where a servant took them to where his mother and sister were. When they entered the room Horas saw his mother, Lady Mina, standing by the window with a sad look in her eyes, and his sister Desmera sitting on a seat doing some embroidery. Mina was born a Tyrell (the sister of Lord Mace Tyrell in fact), and had their curly brown hair and brown eyes, while Desmera had golden eyes and her hair was a brighter shade of brown than their mother's, and like most Redwynes she had freckles on her face. Desmera looked up from her embroidery and was the first to notice him.

"Horas!" she yelled, her voice laced with excitement. She ran up and threw herself into her big brother's arms. Horas chuckled, returning the embrace as his mother turned to look at him, striding over to them.

"My boy," Mina said as she enveloped her arms over both Horas and Desmera. They stood like that for a moment or two before they stepped apart. "Where's Hobber?" his mother asked. Horas sighed and put his hand onto his mother's shoulder.

"He was taken to Maester Ballabar," he explained. "The ship we were on was attacked by pirates. We killed a few of them, including their captain, but Hobber was wounded by this sword here." He pulled the blade out of its scabbard slightly, showing the Valyrian steel to his mother. "The pirate captain held this blade, but I took it from him after killing him. A pirate shouldn't hold Valyrian steel."

"Will Hobber be alright?" Desmera asked him. Horas looked at his sister and patted her on the head before ruffling her bright brown hair, much to her annoyance.

"He'll be fine Mera," he said, using her nickname. "If anyone can help him it's Ballabar. He can heal just about anything." Horas took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder to Jeyne, who looked very uncomfortable, possibly feeling like an intruder. "Mother, Mera, this is Lady Jeyne," he said as he waved the Northern girl over. "She'll be staying with us until we can get her back to the North. Mera, can you keep her company for a little bit while I talk with mother?" Desmera looked up at him and gave him a wide smile.

"Of course," she said happily before part walking part skipping over to Jeyne. As Desmera began to talk to Jeyne Horas turned to look at his mother who had a stern look in her eyes.

"We couldn't leave her there mother," he said before she could speak.

"Why? What happened?" Mina asked quietly. Horas looked over his shoulder to make sure that Desmera and Jeyne were occupied before he looked back at his mother.

"As Hobber and I were leaving King's Landing we saw her running out of a brothel, screaming and being chased," he replied. "We followed them and stopped them just as they were going to rape her."

"Gods, poor child," Mina responded with a gasp.

"As it turns out Jeyne's father was the steward of Lord Stark, the Hand of King Robert," Horas continued. "They are minor nobility from the North, and Jeyne is the best friend of Lord Stark's oldest daughter." He sighed as he walked over to a seat and sat down. "I want you and Mera to stay by her while Maester Ballabar... does what he'll need to to make sure that she is healthy." Mina looked back at Horas sharply then, a look of horror in her eyes.

"Are you saying that she was..." she began a little bit too loudly, prompting Horas to raise his hand. He looked over to where the girls were and was thankful that Desmera had started a long conversation that only young noble girls can enjoy.

"I don't know for certain mother," he said when he looked back up at her. "She started to explain what she endured, but it was too difficult for her and I didn't want her to be thinking about it." He took a deep breath before looking over to the door to see his father walking in.

"Desmera, can you give this young lady a tour of our castle while your mother and I speak with your brother?" Paxter asked in a voice that told Desmera not to argue, though the look in her eyes told Horas that she did not need telling.

"Of course father," Desmera said as she took Jeyne's arm and walked out of the room. "Let me show you the view of the vineyards from one of the upper balconies. Do you get Arbor gold sent up to the North?" Desmera's voice became quieter as they left the room, and Horas could not hear Jeyne's answer.

"So Horas," Paxter said as he took a seat opposite him. "What in the Seven hells happened while you were up there?" Horas sat up straight in his seat and told his parents everything about their time in King's Landing. He told them of how he and Hobber had taken part in the tourney and explained everything that happened after, from the King's death to Lord Stark's escape from the capitol to his and Hobber's own escape. He told them everything, including what happened with Jeyne. When he was done his mother looked between both her husband and son.

"With our sons back Mace will want your support for Renly," she said to Paxter. Horas frowned at that, leaning forward in his seat.

"Why Lord Renly?" he asked. "I thought that it would be Lord Stannis, or perhaps Prince Tommen that we would try to put on the Iron Throne." His father looked at him and sighed.

"A lot has happened while you and Hobber were held by the Lannisters," Paxter answered. "Renly, with my cousin's backing, has been named as the King. He has married your cousin Margaery, making her his Queen. Much to my surprise they both consummated the wedding." Horas did not ask why it was a surprise for Renly to consummate his wedding; it was a poorly kept secret that Renly was rumoured to have a relationship with Horas's cousin Ser Loras. "Anyway, Mace asked for my support to put Renly on the throne, but with you and Hobber as hostages I did not declare for anyone. I was not willing to risk your lives. If the two of you had returned home as you both _promised_ that you would then I might have summoned my own banners and ordered the fleet to set sail. But as it is we have other things to consider." Horas scratched his bearded chin as his father spoke, irritated by the unfamiliar sensation of facial hair.

"What do you mean?" he asked. Paxter nodded his head to Mina who cleared her throat.

"I received word from my mother, your grandmother Lady Olenna Tyrell," she said as she rose from her chair and walked to a nearby desk. "During the wedding feast of Renly and Margaery a letter arrived from Lord Stark's son, young Robb Stark. He has taken Tywin Lannister captive, and was calling for various lords to gather at Riverrun." Horas nodded his head at that.

"I know about him taking Lord Lannister prisoner. We heard about it just before Lord Stark's escape," he said with a smirk. Mina gave a gentle smile as she sat down on her chair again with a letter in her hand.

"Just yesterday we got another raven from my mother," she said. "She wants us to open dialogue with Robb Stark and make some arrangements to enter a formal alliance with them. She said that she wants us to make preparations in case anything should happen to Renly and Margaery does not fall pregnant with his child. I don't know why she asks this of us, but knowing my brother he would probably do or say something that would insult the Starks if he treated with them." Horas looked at the letter in his mother's hand while his father chuckled.

"My cousin is a complete arse," Paxter said. "I love him as my cousin and obey him as my liege but he really doesn't know how to deal with the likes of the Northmen. Aunt Olenna is right to ask us to treat with them." Horas turned to face his father.

"Wouldn't Uncle Mace be angry that we spoke with the Starks behind his back, which I am assuming that my grandmother wants us to do?" he asked.

"You're right," Mina answered, "but my mother will sort him out though, so it won't cause us too much trouble." Paxter hummed in agreement.

"Also I think your grandmother wants us to ally with the Starks to keep the Reach on good terms with someone who stands against Joffrey," Paxter said as he looked at Horas. Horas shook his head in annoyance; all of this political scheming of his grandmother's did nothing but give him headache after headache. It makes him glad that he lives on the Arbor, away from Highgarden and the Queen of Thorns as his grandmother is often called. "I think that regardless of who calls themselves king House Stark and their allies would demand a Great Council to determine who sits the Iron Throne, and a part of me thinks that is what Aunt Olenna is hoping for. With the Lannisters crippled as they are that gives the Reach one less House to turn to should things go awry for Mace."

"And we'd be fools to ignore whatever the Young Wolf offers," Mina put in. "An alliance with the North would be good for the Reach. We trade food in exchange for furs and timber, which will be beneficial when the winter arrives." Horas sat back into the chair he was on and let out a deep breath.

"Why doesn't King Renly treat with the Starks himself?" he asked, to which his mother shook her head with an amused smile on her face.

"Because my brother has proven himself an idiot," she said. "My mother told me in her most recent letter that Mace has sent an answer to Robb Stark telling him to ride out and meet Renly himself, and to not summon Renly as if _he_ were a servant and Robb Stark a king." Mina scoffed in annoyance, no doubt cursing her elder brother. "Renly has allegedly written his own response, although my mother doesn't know his words. In any event it would do us all good to reach out to the Starks and enter an alliance with them."

"And how do we enter said alliance?" Horas asked with a frown before rubbing his forehead.

"Marriage has been suggested," Paxter said, and Horas's eyes widened in alarm. _As in use my little sister as a bargaining chip? No, not on_ , he thought as he clenched his fist. "But it was made clear to us to do so as an absolute last resort," Paxter added quickly, and Horas calmed down.

"Well it doesn't matter at the moment," Mina said as she stood up. Horas looked up towards his mother. "Our sons are back Paxter, and we have no need to do anything just yet. We can send a message to my brother and let him know that Horas and Hobber are back and that we can support Renly's claim while asking my mother for advice on how to deal with the Starks. I'll send her a letter and see if she can suggest something." Horas watched as his father grimaced at that, standing up from his own seat.

"Well, I'll leave that to you Mina," he said. "I ever try to make sense of Aunt Olenna's messages I just feel like my head will burst." Horas chuckled quietly at that as his father made his way to the door. "Anyway Horas, you'd better go and take a bath before you do anything else, and then once I've checked up on Hobber we'll meet and have dinner." Paxter looked over to him and smiled. "It's good to have you back son," he said before leaving the room. Horas turned to look at his mother who walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek.

"Welcome home again," she said.

Horas did as his father said and had a nice long soak in the bath. The bath was nice and soothing, and allowed him to forget about the conversation revolving around the Starks. As good an idea as it was to ally with them Horas did not wish to know the particulars about forming such alliances at the moment. After his bath Horas got changed and met his parents and sister for dinner. Jeyne had joined them as well, sitting beside Desmera. The two of them seemed to get on quite well, which Horas was glad for. During dinner Maester Ballabar entered to inform them that Hobber would live and keep his leg, although he would not be taking part in any fighting for the time being. Knowing that his twin was going to be fine cheered Horas up immensely. After dinner he showed the Valyrian steel sword to his father, who looked quite impressed with the blade and decided to let Horas keep it.

"You earned it in blood son, so it is yours to keep and pass on to your son when that time comes," he had said. Horas now had to decide on a name for the weapon, and he was stumped for ideas.

The next few days passed by quite quickly; the Redwyne fleet assembled around the Arbor ready to sail out, the knights and men-at-arms prepared their arms, armour and (in the case of the knights) horses, and grandmother sent her response with advice on how to deal with the Starks. It had been nine days since his return to the Arbor, and Horas was now sitting beside Hobber as they both shared a jape with Jeyne and Desmera. They were all laughing hard at the poor jape when Horas saw his mother and father enter Hobber's room. They all became very serious when Paxter said that they were going to set sail soon, and that he was going to go to Highgarden to personally kneel before King Renly, leaving Horas behind to defend their home. As he spoke Maester Ballabar entered the room holding a scroll.

"My lord," he spoke as he held out the message. "A raven from Highgarden." Paxter took the scroll and looked upon the wax seal, frowning as he looked at it. He broke the seal and read the letter's contents, his eyes moving fast. As he read his eyes widened.

"Well, this is interesting," he said when he finished reading, looking over to Jeyne. "It seems your friend is now royalty."

* * *

Margaery

Margaery sat at the table beside Renly and her father. The atmosphere around the camp was mixed; most felt good that they were on the move again, while others felt angry that they were to march on Storm's End, the stronghold of House Baratheon. Word had reached them that Stannis had laid siege to her husband's home, and Renly had become very angry at that. They were going to wait for Lord Redwyne to arrive and declare for Renly when this news arrived, and now the army was marching for Storm's End.

Despite the current situation Margaery felt content. The initial frostiness between her and Renly had thawed out after their wedding night. It was another week before Renly slept in the same bed as her, and another three nights before they bedded one another. She couldn't call it lovemaking though; there was no love as far as Margaery knew, even though they did care for each other. Renly always seemed to have a sad look in his eyes whenever he looked at her. She knew about his and Loras's original plan to wed her to his brother Robert, but a part of her was grateful that that plan did not happen.

As she put her fork in her mouth to eat the food that was presented to her she heard her husband laugh loudly. It was a half-hearted laugh, but it was better than not laughing at all. Renly had been angry for most of the last few days, so to hear him laugh was encouraging for Margaery.

"Your grace," a knight who had approached the table from behind them said. Margaery looked over her shoulder to see Ser Robar Royce of Runestone, one of Renly's Kingsguard knights, standing nearby, his hand gripping his sword's hilt. She watched as the knight bowed low and whispered something into her husband's ear.

"Very well Ser Robar," Renly said before turning to face her. "It seems that I must hold a quick meeting, so I shall see you tonight," he told her with a smile. Margaery returned the smile before leaning closer to him. They kissed each other on the lips before Renly stood up and walked away with Ser Robar. The kiss was warm, not stiff like their first kisses. Margaery watched Renly walk away, leaving the tent with Ser Robar and two others. She looked behind her and noticed that Ser Bryce Caron stood behind her alongside her brother Loras and the newest addition to Renly's Kingsguard; a tall brute of a woman called Brienne Tarth. She is the only living child of Lord Selwyn Tarth, and she addresses herself as Brienne of Tarth. Among her detractors she is called the Beauty, as an insult to her as she is not a pretty woman; in fact one glance at her with her short straw coloured hair and her muscular frame and people would think her a man. Margaery likes Brienne though, and sees her as a strong woman. Loras on the other hand does not seem to like her much, but that may be down to her humiliating him by defeating him at the great melee held at Bitterbridge where she was named to Renly's Kingsguard, which he was calling the 'Rainbow' Guard. It seemed to go down well with the pious folk, as the rainbow is seen as something of a religious symbol by the Faith.

"So your grace," Margaery's father spoke up then, his tone joyous and warm. "Any chance of making me a grandfather yet?" he asked with a chuckle, and Margaery had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. _Bloody oaf_ , Margaery thought before smiling. _Oh gods I sounded just like grandmother then_.

"It's not been long enough yet father," she said with a smile. "We'll need time before we know for sure." Her father was opening his mouth to speak again when a messenger appeared.

"Forgive my intrusion your grace," the man said to her before looking at her father. "Lord Tyrell, you have a message waiting for you in your tent." Margaery noticed that her father's eyes widened with childlike glee.

"Most excellent," he said as he downed his drink quickly before turning to her once more. "Forgive me your grace, but I must take my leave," he said trying to sound apologetic. Margaery laughed despite herself and held her hand out to her father.

"It is quite alright father," she said as he took her hand and placed a kiss upon her knuckles. Mace Tyrell walked away with a wide smile on his face, and as he left Margaery breathed out a sigh of relief. As much as she loved her father he can be a right pain most of the time.

She stayed in the tent for another half an hour before retiring for the night. She walked back to her tent with Ser Bryce and Loras on either side of her, and Brienne behind them. The four of them walked for a short time before they reached her tent. She bid them goodnight before entering, with Brienne following her in to check the tent to make sure it is safe. After a quick inspection Brienne seemed satisfied and left. As Margaery undressed herself and put on her bed gown she thought about her brothers; Willas was still in Highgarden, governing the Reach in their father's name while spending what free time he had with his hawks, hounds and horses; Garlan was with the army, but Margaery has not seen much of him as he assisted with organising the training of the men-at-arms as well as the knights; Loras however was quiet most of he time. Loras's quiet behaviour had worried Margaery for quite some time now; ever since she and Renly had wed he had been distant. It upset her greatly to think that Loras felt awkward around them.

As she pulled the covers back and sat down on the bed Margaery heard the flaps to the tent open and saw Renly stride in, a frustrated look on his face. The frustration melted away however when he saw her, and he gave her a small smile instead. Margaery stood up and smiled back as Renly approached.

"A quick meeting then I trust?" she remarked, earning a chuckle from Renly.

"Very quick Margaery," he said as he closed the distance. Before she knew what was happening Renly had pulled her into his arms and kissed her fiercely on her lips, pressing his lips hard against hers. Margaery moaned as she felt her gown being pulled up from behind, and she struggled to help him remove her gown while kissing him back. It was the first time that Renly kissed her with such passion. Before long they had fallen onto the bed in a heap, their fingers fumbling with Renly's clothing trying to free his body. Once he was naked he climbed into the bed properly and pulled the covers over them before he pushed himself into her. Margaery gasped at the intrusion, but smiled quickly as she felt the familiar sensation of Renly's member moving within her. She moaned happily as Renly peppered her face with kisses, cupping one of her breasts with one hand while his other slid down to her thigh. Margaery found herself lost in the moment, losing all sense of time. Like the last time they bedded each other Renly spilled his seed into her three or four times, but this time Margaery felt herself coming down to her end each time he did. _He's really getting good at this now_ , she thought with a broad smile as he kissed the soft skin on her throat, prompting a wanton moan to escape her. She brushed one hand through his black mane while her other was wrapped over his back, her nails digging in. Both of her legs were raised above his hips, and soon he began to pound into her at a fast rate, driving her wild with lust.

"Oh gods Renly!" she shouted out as she felt herself reach her peak, soaking her husband's member with her arousal at the same time as his seed flooded into her.

"Margaery," he groaned out before kissing her gently on the lips.

After they had finished that time Renly pulled out and lay down next to her, his fingers gliding over her body. She giggled at his touch, which tickled her body with every movement. Even though they were completely under the covers Margaery could see Renly smiling at her, his blue eyes full of a happiness that she had not seen in him before.

"You look very happy Renly," she said, to which Renly hummed in agreement.

"I just got some good news from our scouts," he said. "Stannis doesn't have a great deal of men, so hopefully we can persuade them to stand down without a single drop of blood being shed." He sounded confident, which made Margaery happy.

"That's great," she said. "Once you make Stannis bend the knee you can get him to help with taking King's Landing." Renly's smile got even wider at that before he sighed, taking on a serious look.

"I fear that there won't be any convincing Stannis to help me," he said as he brought a hand to cup her cheek. He leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "I'm sure his men will bend the knee once I take him, but I fear that I'll have to send him to the Wall. I confess that I do not know what to do about his wife, but I'll raise my niece in King's Landing and see about brokering a good match if one can be found for her." Margaery smiled as she sat up and looked at Renly.

"Whatever you do I'll help you however I can, you know that," she stated firmly. "Some might call you weak for sending him to the Wall, but it will be the right thing to do to keep the Faith happy." Renly laughed briefly at that, touching her lips with the tip of his finger.

"As they say, no man is so accursed as the kinslayer," he said before reaching his hand around the back of her head and pulling her closer to him. Margaery smiled widely as she closed the gap to kiss him.

They pleasured one another for quite a while before they fell asleep. When Margaery woke up the next morning she noticed that Renly was still sleeping himself. She took the time to marvel his body, and found herself feeling a wanton desire that her grandmother once told her about. She looked Renly up and down, her eyes taking in every detail, but they halted upon landing on his member. It was quite big, and Margaery smiled as a very sinful thought entered her mind. She quickly dismissed it though; she had taken him into her mouth twice since their marriage became more intimate, but she preferred to be kissing his mouth and Renly made it clear that he does not like the taste of his own seed. She was not bothered though, as she still did not understand what the fuss was all about. As she moved to get dressed Renly groaned, drawing her eyes back to his face. He had some stubble growing around his jaw and chin, and she decided to brush her fingers against it.

"That tickles," Renly said, and Margaery giggled.

"Call that revenge for tickling me last night," she said before leaning down and kissing him. As she kissed him she felt his hands grasp her waist and pull her over him. Margaery laughed loudly, struggling in his grasp before she felt his member pressing into her thigh. Margaery looked into Renly's eyes as she straddled him, rubbing his member with her hand before slowly lowering herself onto him. When she felt him inside her she began to bounce on his lap, which she did for about ten minutes before they were both done. After they calmed down they both disentangled themselves from each other and stood up from the bed, Margaery grabbing a simple gown as Renly called for a bath to be drawn for them. An hour later they were soaking in the bath tub, Margaery humming to herself as she rubbed her fingers into Renly's scalp. Renly enjoyed what she was doing, groaning in satisfaction as she washed his hair for him.

"You know, you should really think about growing a beard," she suggested to him. Renly huffed in annoyance, much to her surprise.

"Robert always said the same bloody thing," he said. "Personally I've never seen the need for a beard. Plus I feel that just having too much stubble can be uncomfortable."

"Oh, but I like it," Margaery pouted, making Renly chuckle. "It feels good I think."

"Would you really want to hear me complaining about my face itching all of the time?" he asked as he looked over his shoulder at her, a playful look in his eyes. Margaery giggled as he turned around and pulled her down a little bit into the bath, before he began to splash water at her.

"Renly Baratheon!" she laughed before trying to playfully slap him, but he caught her arm in his hand.

"Striking your king is treason," he said, trying to sound serious and failing thanks to his wide smile.

After another few minutes of playing and washing in the bath Margaery and Renly both got dried up and dressed for the day's ride. Soon they were both outside, the morning sun shining down on them. Margaery smiled as she walked beside Renly, their hands clasped together. They soon arrived at a wheelhouse that looked ready to leave, surrounded by a large party of guards with Margaery's brother Garlan at their head.

"Good morning Ser Garlan," Renly called out. Margaery waved at her elder brother who gave her a small smile. Margaery looked at her husband and saw that his face was very serious, his eyes filled with an apologetic look. She had an idea what he was about to say.

"You're sending me back to Highgarden," she stated. Renly hesitated for only a moment before nodding his head. "Why?"

"For your safety Margaery," he answered, his eyes boring into hers. "I do not know what Stannis might try and do, but I do not want to tempt fate by having you nearby should he get it into his head that harming you would break me, which it will." The way he spoke made Margaery want to comfort him, like the way she did at the start of their marriage. "He's my brother and I am sure that he won't do anything to you, but he has the Florents with him, and they have hated your family for years." Margaery felt a slight tremor of fear ripple through her body at the mention of House Florent, who are sworn to Highgarden but have always coveted the Tyrells position since the Targaryen conquest.

"Okay Renly," she said with a sigh. "I won't argue with you on this. If it helps you to deal with Stannis then I'll go." She did not want to leave him, but she knew that it was the smart thing to do. There was no way she could help him with dealing with his brother, who Margaery knows has held resentment towards her family for her father's part in the siege of Storm's End during the rebellion just over fifteen years ago.

"We'll be back together before you know it," he said as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Margaery hugged him back and held him tightly, not wanting to let him go but knowing that she would have to soon. "I love you," he whispered into her ear, and it caught her completely by surprise. She has cared about Renly for quite some time, and she even desires him, but she never once thought about loving him. She had been sure that he would only ever hold love for Loras, but after the last few nights she was not so sure. Of course he could just be saying that for appearances sake, but whatever the truth, there was only one thing she could say in answer to that.

"I love you too," came her reply. They both stepped apart and looked into each others eyes. Margaery held her gaze for a moment before closing her eyes and leaning up to him, cupping his face between her hands and kissing him. Renly kissed back without hesitation, and before long they both broke the kiss. They stepped back from each other this time, holding their hands before letting go.

"I'll see you when this is over Margaery. I promise." His words carried a sincerity to them, a sense of truth that made Margaery's heart swell.

"I will hold you to that promise," she said. After a short moment Margaery turned around and walked up to the wheelhouse. A knight held the door open for her while another held his hand out. She looked over her shoulder and saw Renly looking back with a sad smile, with Loras just behind him with his helm over his head. Even at this distance Margaery saw the look in her brother's eyes; a look of heartbreak. Margaery smiled for them before she turned back around and took the knight's hand, and walked up into the wheelhouse. Once the door closed behind her Margaery let the tears escape. "I'm sorry Loras," she muttered to herself as the wheelhouse moved.

The journey back to Highgarden took many days. The journey was relatively safe, with the only possible threat to them being bandits seeing as the only organised enemies are either in the Stormlands or to the north of them in the Crownlands; the former preparing for Renly's host to arrive while the later were focusing on the Northmen and their Riverland allies. Fortunately the presence of the knights riding alongside the wheelhouse was enough to deter any bandits from attacking. After many days of travel Margaery found herself in Highgarden, where Willas and their mother Alerie stood waiting for them. Margaery left the wheelhouse and walked up to her mother and eldest brother with Garlan walking beside her.

"Welcome home, my Queen," Willas said in a teasing manner. Margaery smiled at him as she walked into his embrace. They separated and Margaery turned to her mother, who embraced her just as quickly. They all went inside the castle and walked up to a private room where Margaery's grandmother was sat with her cane in hand.

"Welcome back my dear," Olenna Tyrell said as she stood up on her feet. Despite her age Olenna moved as swiftly as she did ten years ago; Margaery was certain that the cane was just for show more than anything, even though her grandmother did use it.

"Hello grandmother," Margaery said as she embraced her, giving her a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"It's wonderful to have you back, isn't it mother?" Alerie said, earning a huff of annoyance from Olenna.

"If I've told you once I've told you a thousand times Alerie don't call me mother," Olenna said. "If I had pushed you out between my legs then I'm sure I would've remembered doing so." Alerie looked down at the floor looking suitably embarrassed.

"Grandmother!" Margaery chastised in a gentle tone. "That is no way to speak in front of your Queen now, is it?" Olenna fixed her with a smile before gesturing to the chairs around.

"Don't let it get to your head now Margaery," she said as she sat down. Margaery looked around as everyone else sat down, Willas with some difficulty due to his bad leg. In his youth Willas took part in a joust at some tourney and went up against the Red Viper of Dorne, Prince Oberyn Martell. The joust had ended with Oberyn as the victor and Willas with a crushed leg as when he fell his foot got caught in the stirrup and he ended up pulling the horse down on top of him. That had led to their father Mace bearing quite a grudge against Oberyn, but Willas has never held ill will towards the Dornish prince; instead he has garnered a good friendship with the man and has maintained a regular correspondence with him. Ever since that day Willas has been a studious fellow, taking his education seriously and focusing on his duties. Although their father is the Lord of Highgarden it is known that the real power of House Tyrell lays with both Willas and Olenna.

"Queen you may now be," Willas said. "But should the worst happen and Renly dies without siring an heir then you won't be a Queen for long. I trust that you have been trying to secure an heir?" Margaery shivered at her brother's question but she knew that it was one that needed to be asked.

"We have grown quite close over the last few nights before my departure," she answered.

"Intimately so I do hope," Olenna spoke up then. Margaery looked over to her and smiled.

"We have managed to please each other quite a few times now grandmother," she replied, noticing Willas's eyes widening.

"Well, in any case we should hope that Renly's seed quickens within you soon," Olenna said, earning a horrified look from Alerie. "Don't start Alerie," she said before Margaery's mother could speak. "You know as well as I do that this is our lot in life as highborn ladies. Everything else is secondary in the grand scheme of things."

"Grandmother," Willas said in a scandalised tone. "Despite the circumstances we should at least consider Margaery's feelings."

"It didn't sound like you were considering her feelings a moment ago Willas," Olenna retorted.

"Anyway!" Margaery yelled, cutting across the two of them. "Renly and I have grown closer despite everything. With the... frequency of our coupling I'm sure that I'll find myself with child soon." She looked at both her brother and her grandmother, the former looking quite apologetic while the later simply smirked.

"I have no doubt about that my dear," Olenna said. "Now then, let's put the serious business behind us for a short while shall we?" She then waved over a servant who was bringing in a plate of cakes. "We shall have cheesecake as well my good man," Olenna said to the servant.

"The cheesecake shall be served afterwards Lady Olenna," he tried to insist. Margaery watched her grandmother fix the poor man with a firm look that would make anyone feel small.

"The cheesecake will be served when I bloody well want it served," she stated. At that the servant bowed meekly before rushing off to find the cheesecake. Margaery brought her hand up to cover her mouth as she smirked.

For the rest of that afternoon Margaery sat with her family, eating and conversing with them. The day passed by quite quickly, and soon Margaery found herself walking into her bed chambers. She had not slept in that room since her wedding night, and that seemed quite a while ago now. _How long will it take before I know I'm with child_? she wondered as she sat down on the foot of her bed. As she was about to undress there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" she called out.

"It's Willas," her brother's voice shouted through. Margaery sighed as she stood up and wandered over to the door, opening it and showing Willas in. Her brother limped in, supporting himself on his cane as he walked. "How are you doing just now Margaery?" he asked her. She smiled at him, guiding him into the room and helping him sit on a chair.

"I am well Willas," she said as she sat on a chair next to Willas. He smiled at her before sighing.

"I'm sorry if I came across as a total fool earlier," he said. "With the way things are with this conflict we're all worried about our family's position." Margaery folded her hands over her lap and looked at Willas, frowning at his words.

"What do you mean?" she asked him. Willas looked at her with a sad smile before reaching into his doublet and pulling out a letter.

"Word from the capitol," he said as he passed the letter over to Margaery. She read it quickly, taking in every word. When she finished she looked back up to Willas.

"Is this true?" she asked. Willas nodded. She looked at the letter again, her heart fluttering with fear.

 **To Lord Mace Tyrell,**

 **It has come to our knowledge that you have declared for the traitor Lord Renly Baratheon, the Lord of Storm's End and false claimant to the Iron Throne. I give you an offer that will allow you to keep your seat should you do your duty to His grace King Joffrey of the House Baratheon.**

 **Renly is weak. I say this as a person who has known him on the small council. He is kind and fair, but not fit to rule. Should some calamity befall him before he reaches King's Landing then King Joffrey will personally see to it that you are rewarded properly on the condition that you bend the knee to him. Rewards will include a marriage to your House, seeing as the traitor Lord Stark's daughter has escaped our custody, thus ending her engagement to our benevolent King.**

 **If you go further and help to bring to justice the traitor Lord Stannis as well then we can arrange for your own daughter to marry King Joffrey. If she has been wedded and bedded by Renly then we can make it seem to King Joffrey that she had no choice in the matter. If you go even further and help deal with the rebellious Northern lords as well then I know that His grace will reward you most handsomely for such service as it would prove your loyalty and help to convince the King to forgive you.**

 **Your pardon has already been written my lord. All I need is your word and signature, and House Tyrell shall continue to Grow Strong.**

 **Sincerest regards,**

 **Lord Petyr of the House Baelish,**

 **Lord of the Fingers and Master of Coin**

 **on behalf of His Grace King Joffrey of the House Baratheon, the First of His name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm**

Margaery was furious after she had finished reading the letter. She had felt fear to begin with, but that fear was replaced by a fury that she did not know that she had.

"They dare?" she hissed. "They dare to plot against us, and to turn us against each other? This is..." Willas reached over and took the letter.

"They are desperate," he said. "Grandmother thinks the same. She and you are not so easily intimidated by such nonsense, but father is. He won't think properly if he reads this, and we both know how greedy father can be. If this Lord Baelish should give a better offer to father then he may very well take it." Margaery looked at her brother then.

"Would father really betray Renly so quickly?" she asked.

"Should you fall pregnant then we are safe so long as Renly lives, but if he falls..." Willas trailed off then, making Margaery uncomfortable. "Father would insist on you drinking moon tea should the worst happen. He wants nothing more than to put a grandson on the Iron Throne."

"He wants our blood to become royalty," Margaery said in a stern voice. "If Renly dies, and I hope to the gods that doesn't ever happen, and I should be carrying his child, boy or girl I will put it on the throne. If father wants us to be royal then that will happen, but he will never make me get rid of my child. Ever!" When Margaery finished and looked away she felt her hands shaking.

"Gods little sister," Willas said, his voice laced with shock. Margaery looked back at him and saw the raised brow, and the look of worry. "You've fallen for him, haven't you?" Margaery looked away from Willas then, her eyes beginning to water. _Have I_? she wondered, her heart beating faster than even she thought possible. She never thought that she might be falling in love with Renly, but now that Willas has raised it with her she could not stop the tears as the realisation hit her.

"I... I have," she replied. "Oh gods, Loras!" She brought her hands up to her eyes and began to weep. As she wept she felt Willas's hand taking one of her hands and giving it a gentle squeeze. "He'll hate me," she said. "Loras has always loved Renly. He'll hate me for this."

"No he won't," Willas said. "Our brother won't hate you. He'll be devastated, but he will not hate you at all." Margaery looked back at her brother and gave a weak smile. After a few minutes she calmed herself down and wiped her eyes.

"I'm sorry Willas," she said. "It's just that... well, everything has been a little overwhelming recently. And this nonsense from Lord Baelish just reeks of trouble."

"I agree, but it is a rather clever move when you think about it," he responded. "Trying to convince us to betray Renly, even though he knows how close Loras is to him." Margaery looked up at Willas in shock.

"How can he know?" she asked.

"Loras told me that Baelish has always been smart enough to figure these things out," he answered. "Personally I reckon that Baelish would hope that father will try to betray Renly or if Loras heard of the letter then he would think that father would betray him, leading to mistrust and infighting. Anyway, apart from this desperate attempt which would only succeed if father got the letter first there is no way we will be in danger so long as the Starks don't side with Stannis."

"Would they do that?" Margaery asked, fearful of the answer before remembering something in the letter. "Wait, the letter said something about Lord Stark's daughter escaping. Does that mean that he has escaped as well?" Willas smirked at this.

"From what we can gather he has," came his reply. "So with Joffrey and his mother having no hostages..."

"The Starks can side with whoever they choose to," Margaery finished. She sat up and yawned, fatigue starting to take its toll on her. When she finished yawning she looked back to Willas who looked at her with a kind smile. "We have to try and reach out to them, convince them to support Renly instead of Stannis," she began before Willas chuckled.

"Yes we should, but we can worry about that tomorrow Margaery," he said as he struggled up from his seat. "For now you need to sleep. We'll speak of this after our breakfast tomorrow."

With that Willas walked out from Margaery's room, with her walking with him to the door and closing it behind him. Once he was gone Margaery walked over to her bed and undressed herself before going to bed. It felt weird to be sleeping in bed by herself, having spent many nights sharing a bed with Renly. She felt a touch of loneliness as she tried to get to sleep, but after a while she drifted off into a peaceful slumber. When she awoke the following morning she called for a bath and sat in it for a good hour with some of her cousins attending to her, including Megga, Alla and Elinor. After her bath Margaery got changed and walked outside to have her breakfast with her family. As they were settling down servants brought the trays of food over for them to enjoy, followed by a squire who looked to have been exhausted.

"Your grace," the squire spoke as he stopped by the table. "Many pardons, but there is a messenger from the North. He says that he bears an important message for all to hear." Margaery put on her best smile for the boy and spoke before her grandmother could chide the boy for interrupting their breakfast.

"Very well then. Have the messenger escorted here so he can tell us his message," she told him. The squire bowed to her and ran off. Margaery and her family and companions turned back to their breakfast.

"With any luck the Starks will be wanting to make an alliance with Renly," her mother said. Olenna scoffed at that as she picked up a strawberry from her plate.

"We shall see Alerie," Margaery's grandmother replied before putting the strawberry into her mouth. Half an hour passed before the messenger arrived, looking quite uncomfortable in the heat if the sweat rolling from his forehead was anything to go by. Margaery looked at the man as he bowed to them; he wore boiled leather for armour with a simple helm forged from iron that he carried under his left arm, a longsword hanging from his left hip, and his face was framed in brown hair that was quite shaggy.

"Welcome to Highgarden good ser," Margaery spoke in a warm, welcoming tone, smiling wide to put the man at ease.

"My thanks my lady, but I am no knight," he said. Before Margaery could speak her brother Garlan spoke.

"You are speaking to Queen Margaery Baratheon, the wife of his grace King Renly Baratheon. You will address her as 'your grace'," he snapped, his face stern. The Northman simply looked at Garlan with a stern face of his own, showing that he was not in the least bit intimidated by him.

"Oh for heavens sake Garlan, calm yourself," Margaery spoke up, trying to ease the tension that had built up. Garlan looked at her and opened his mouth to speak, but Margaery shook her head ever so slightly. Garlan kept quiet, taking his sister's hint. Margaery looked back at the messenger. "So, what does the North want then my good man? I take it that Lord Eddard has managed to get back to his family?" The man looked at her and nodded his head.

"Indeed he has your grace," he spoke, "and I come bearing King Eddard's declaration." Margaery's eyes widened then, her mouth agape at the messenger's words.

"I'm so sorry my good man, my hearing must be getting worse," Olenna said. "But I thought I heard you say that your King is Lord Stark." The messenger had a slight grin at Margaery's grandmother's words. Margaery looked around the table and saw that her mother and brothers were all quite shocked.

"You heard me correctly my lady," the Northman said as he pulled out a letter from his satchel. "These are the words written by his grace King Eddard of House Stark."

* * *

Cersei

Cersei was worried. The events of the last few weeks have rattled her. Her father and cousins taken prisoner by the Northmen, her Uncle Kevan killed by Robb Stark, and still no word from Jamie. Stark's escape was also bad enough as well as Sansa's disappearance, but Cersei was certain that Varys was responsible for that. The eunuch has not been seen since the Starks escape, so it made sense to her that he was responsible. Right now though she had other matters to deal with. She walked into the throne room, trying to not look too angry. People bowed and curtseyed to her, mumbling 'your grace' or 'my Queen' as she walked by. Cersei did not respond to any of them. _They are sheep_ , she reminded herself. _And lions do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep_.

Cersei stood in front of the chair set to the right of the Iron Throne, where Joffrey was walking up to. When Cersei watched her and Jamie's son she smiled as her golden boy took the last couple of steps up to the throne in a single leap before sitting down. When he sat everyone else took their seats, apart from the Kingsguard who all stood around the throne. With Barristan and Jamie gone there were only five knights of the Kingsguard to protect Joffrey; Ser Meryn Trant, Ser Arys Oakheart, Ser Boros Blount, Ser Preston Greenfield and Ser Mandon Moore. Barristan was replaced with Joffrey's sworn shield Sandor Clegane, but of course he was not a knight. Cersei's other two children, Myrcella and Tommen, were standing beside her. She was not so sure about having them in court at the moment, but Joffrey had been insistent. The herald announced Joffrey's presence and spoke his usual drivel before falling silent, giving Joffrey time to speak.

"As your King it is my duty to punish the traitors and reward the loyal," he began, speaking the way that Cersei has taught him to speak in court. "However the one traitor that I could have had punished has escaped our custody along with his traitor daughters, helped by another traitor on my very own council." There was mumbling in the room then as the gathered nobles spoke amongst themselves. Joffrey held up his hand for silence, and the nobles obeyed. "As such I must question the loyalty of my own small council. With Lord Varys having disappeared, as well as my uncles Lord Stannis and Lord Renly having named themselves king, the positions of Master of Ships, Master of Whisperers, and Master of Laws are now available. That leaves my loyal servant Lord Janos Slynt of Harrenhal and my loyal tutor Grand Maester Pycelle, whose loyalty I cannot question. Would the Master of Coin Lord Petyr Baelish step forward!" Cersei smirked as Littlefinger looked over his shoulder, a stunned look on his face as he began to walk over to stand before the throne. _My clever boy_ , Cersei thought as she thought back to her conversation with Joffrey yesterday.

"Your grace," Baelish said as he knelt before Joffrey, his head bowed low. "I am your humble servant and yours to command." _So you would like us to believe_ , Cersei thought snidely. She looked at her son who looked over to her and inclined his head. Cersei smiled at him and stood up, noticing that Tommen and Myrcella were looking up at her with confused looks.

"Lord Baelish," Cersei began. "You claim to be loyal to our good King Joffrey, yet we have evidence that refutes your claim." Littlefinger looked up at her with a slight look of fear in his eyes.

"Y... your grace, I can assure you that whatever evidence you have is a falsehood," he said. Cersei smiled at his words, feeling a little satisfaction at making him squirm.

"Is that so?" she asked. "A loyal informant of mine had come to me two nights ago my lord, with an interesting letter." Cersei clicked her fingers and a Lannister guard walked forward with a letter. "Is that letter written with your handwriting my lord?" she asked as Littlefinger took the letter and looked at it, his eyes going wide and his face going pale. The letter he was looking at had been given to Cersei two nights ago by her informer who she had rewarded yesterday by having one of her men slit the man's throat; the informer had worked for Varys before she persuaded him to work for her instead. After taking the letter she asked her cousin Lancel to pose as her informer, which was easy for her to do. Although he was not Jamie he did the job ably enough.

"This is..." Baelish began but stumbled, clearly unable to think of something to say. Joffrey turned to look at Cersei then.

"Mother, do tell us how this informer of yours came across this letter," he spoke in a commanding tone. Cersei smiled as she looked at him.

"I do believe that my informer would speak of this himself your grace," she said. In the next moment Lancel walked forward, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword while he kept a stern face.

"Ah, Ser Lancel, my mother's cousin," Joffrey spoke. "So tell me, how did you come across this letter?" Lancel looked up at them then and cleared his throat.

"While I was enjoying an evening stroll a couple of nights ago I ran into some urchin who looked like he was up to no good," Lancel said, reciting the lie that Cersei had him go over with her last night. Cersei smiled, a twisted and cruel smile that she directed at Littlefinger. "I approached him and challenged him, but he ran off, dropping the letter that Lord Baelish now holds."

"Who was this urchin?" Cersei asked him, locking her eyes with his. Lancel seemed to grow more confident at that. _Good, I need you to remain confident until Littlefinger is dealt with_ , she thought.

"I chased after him once I picked up the scroll, and when I caught up with him he told me that he was rummaging through the personal quarters of Lord Baelish," Lancel answered. "The boy claimed that he could not read, but I doubt the truth of such a claim if he made off with such an important letter." Baelish looked around at the gathered nobles, looking for someone but Cersei did not know who. The nobles were all chattering loudly now.

"Ser Lancel, would you tell us what you read from the letter?" Joffrey asked.

"Of course your grace," Lancel replied. "I read the letter three times, and it was a letter between both Lord Baelish and Lady Arryn in regards to the murder of Lord Jon Arryn." Nobles gasped in shock at this. Cersei looked around the room and saw that everyone seemed to be genuinely shocked and not feigning shock to please Joffrey. _Lord Arryn was popular with a lot of people, so this is good_. "That letter in Lord Baelish's hand is his unsent message to Lady Arryn informing her to dispose of the poison that she had used to kill the noble Lord of the Vale." Joffrey stood up quickly, his face contorted with anger. He looked back at her, and for the briefest of moments Cersei felt uncomfortable.

"This only came to our attention over the last few days mother?" he asked. Cersei bowed to Joffrey.

"Yes you grace," she said. "I was quite sceptical about this letter thinking it might be a forgery, so I asked Ser Lancel to investigate Lord Baelish's quarters."

"You did what?" Littlefinger sputtered. "That's outrage-"

"No Lord Baelish!" Joffrey snapped, turning quickly to look at him. "This is an outrage. Your correspondence with Lady Arryn about the death of my father's Hand, a man who helped my father to run the Seven Kingdoms." Cersei looked back at her cousin, who looked quite sheepish at Joffrey's outburst.

"Ser Lancel, did you find any further evidence of Lord Baelish's guilt?" she asked.

"Indeed I did you grace," he answered. "Myself and men loyal to the King searched Lord Baelish's quarters quite quickly, a task made much easier by his absence. Inside we found numerous letters regarding loans taken with the Iron Bank that were not made with the Crown's permission, among other things." Nobles began to shout in outrage at Littlefinger, who looked ready to drop dead. After a few minutes Joffrey called for silence. When the room was quiet Joffrey snapped his fingers angrily.

"You will pay for your treason Baelish," Joffrey spoke, his voice hard. _Good my boy, you're learning_. "Guards, take him out of my sight. Throw him into the black cells. I'll execute him in a couple of days once we have heard all of the evidence."

Cersei had to resist the urge to laugh as Littlefinger was seized and dragged away by two Gold Cloaks, struggling in their grip as they hauled him away. Once the little man had been dragged away Joffrey called upon Pycelle to read out further decrees that he and Cersei had discussed. For the next hour Joffrey sat looking dreadfully bored as Pycelle droned on. _His voice is enough to make anyone fall asleep_ , Cersei thought with a slight smirk. As Pycelle spoke she looked around the room, scanning the faces of every man. Eventually her eyes found the green orbs of her cousin Lancel, who had a smirk of his own. _He did well, so I suppose I'll have to 'reward' him in my bed tonight_ , she thought with some apprehension. When Pycelle finally finished speaking the doors opened and a man walked in. People stepped aside as the man walked forward, and that allowed Cersei to see another cousin of hers. The man had the features of a weasel and a weak chin, as well as stringy brown hair. Cersei groaned with annoyance when she realised that this was her Aunt Genna's eldest son, Ser Cleos Frey. He was not a smart person, in fact he was as stupid as he looked, and he was a cowardly man. _How he was born from my Aunt Genna's womb I'll never know_ , Cersei thought.

"Who approaches his grace King Joffrey?" Ser Meryn demanded. Cleos jolted at the sound of Ser Meryn's voice.

"I... I am Ser Cleos," he spoke. "Of House Frey. I come bearing a message from the Starks." Cersei stood up from her seat and looked at Joffrey who was looking very bored as he slouched on the throne.

"Mother, do you know this man?" he asked.

"He is a cousin of mine your grace," she told him. "My Aunt Genna Lannister's son by her husband Ser Emmon Frey." Joffrey looked back at Cleos who seemed to shrink under his gaze. "Well go on then cousin," Cersei spoke. "What message do you bring?" Cleos held up a letter in his hand, and Cersei shook her head. _I suppose I'll have to read it out for you you blasted oaf_ , she thought angrily as she walked to stand beside Ser Meryn. "Bring me the letter then Ser Cleos." Cleos stepped forward and handed the letter over to her. Cersei looked at the direwolf seal and broke it, huffing in annoyance. She unrolled the letter and read its contents, her eyes widening in shock and anger. _No, this can't be_...

"Well mother, what does the traitor Robb Stark say?" Joffrey asked. Cersei looked back at her son.

"This letter is written by Eddard Stark," she said, her voice a whisper. Cersei shook her head and took a deep breath, annoyed at how weak she sounded in front of her son as she handed the letter over to the herald to read out. The herald read the letter himself, his own eyes going wide as he tried to comprehend what he was reading. After a moment he began to read out what was written.

"To all the Noble Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros," the man called out, his voice loud as thunder. "During my time as Hand of the King I discovered a most shocking truth. The children Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen are not the children of my childhood friend King Robert Baratheon. They are in fact the product of..." The herald hesitated, looking at Cersei who nodded at him to continue. "They are in fact the product of incest between Queen Cersei Lannister and her twin brother Ser Jamie Lannister the Kingslayer." Gasps filled the throne room, and Cersei looked back at her children; Myrcella and Tommen looked shocked, even upset while Joffrey had an angry look on his face. "Upon discovering this vile truth I confronted the Queen who did not deny her crimes. Before I could tell my King of this truth he had been wounded by a boar while on a hunt and died from his injuries. The day after King Robert's death I was arrested in the throne room, my men slaughtered by guardsmen of the City Watch. I was imprisoned, and my eldest daughter held hostage. My son and heir Robb Stark marched out to battle and as you are all aware by now he had taken Lord Tywin Lannister captive, along with his son Tyrion and his nephews Willem and Martyn. I have recently been reunited with my family after being released from my false imprisonment by Lord Varys, who at great risk to his own life helped myself and both of my daughters to flee King's Landing." The herald paused then, reading further on before looking at Cersei again. Cersei nodded her head again to let the man know to continue. "After taking many matters into consideration and discussing with my lords bannermen the suitability of all claimants to the Iron Throne it has been decided that the North and the Riverlands shall no longer bow to King's Landing."

"WHAT!?" Joffrey shouted, his voice a mixture of anger and confusion. The nobles muttered amongst themselves before the herald continued.

"It has been... It has been decided that the Crown of Winter shall be worn again. No more will the lords and ladies of the North and the Riverlands pledge fealty to those who would bring harm to them. To all those who claim to be the King on the Iron Throne I give you a chance to bring about an end to this conflict between us peacefully. Accept our terms and peace can be met." The herald cleared his throat, looking around the throne room nervously. "Firstly, the remains of my entire household are to be returned to the North so that they may be respectfully laid to rest, and any who are still alive shall be released and returned to us alive and unharmed. Secondly, House Lannister will pay compensation to the Riverlords for the crimes committed against their small folk, paying in the form of coin and crops. Lords and knights whose crimes were not so heinous shall be allowed to take the black and join the Night's Watch, others however shall be executed due to the severity of their crimes." Cersei felt fear for her father and for Jamie, although Tyrion she did not care for. She knew that if the North won then Stark would kill her father and her twin, and she was certain that the Starks would give Tyrion Casterly Rock just to spite her family. "Thirdly, House Baratheon will recognise and respect the sovereignty of the Northern Kingdoms, which as of this moment comprises of the Riverlands whose lords have pledged their fealty to Winterfell as well as all lands north of the Neck. Winterfell and Riverrun, along with their bannermen shall never kneel to the south again. Accept these terms and we shall have peace. Refuse, and I will bring the wrath of winter down upon those who would bring battle to us." Cersei breathed out slowly, trying to stay calm as the gathered nobility gasped and muttered in shock and anger.

"They cannot do this," she heard someone say. "Those lands are ours."

"Who does that wolf bedding fool think he is?" Janos Slynt hissed. "Harrenhal belongs to my family, and I will never bow to that tree worshipping traitor!" Cersei rolled her eyes in annoyance at the Gold Cloak commander's blustering. The herald coughed loudly, gaining the attention of everyone in the throne room. The nobles fell silent and looked at him.

"The time of the Iron Throne's dominion over the Northern Kingdoms has come to an end. Take heed of these words, for winter is coming." Cersei noticed quite a few nobles shuddering at the herald reciting the words of House Stark. "Signed by His grace, Eddard of the House Stark, First to bear that name since the Conquest, Lord of Winterfell, King of the North and of the Trident, Defender of the Northern Kingdoms, and Shield of the First Men."

The throne room was deathly quiet after the herald finished reading out the declaration. Cersei looked around at everyone; most looked unsure, many frightened, and one or two looked angry. Cersei looked at the far end of the throne room and saw one man who was glaring at her. _I need to say something_ , she realised. Before she could say a word though her son stood up.

"Mother!" Joffrey snapped. "Is there any truth to what Stark has said about me?" Cersei looked up at him and shook her head.

"Do not listen to these lies your grace," she said as she walked forward, her voice loud and clear. "My son, your father was Robert Baratheon the First of His name, the Demon of the Trident." Cersei felt some disgust towards herself for calling Joffrey Robert's son, but she could not let anyone know the truth. "Eddard Stark is a filthy traitor who only wants one thing." Joffrey looked placated by her words, but the anger was still in his eyes.

"I want him dead mother," he said before looking at the nobles. "I want Eddard Stark dead! I want Robb Stark dead! I want Brandon Stark and Rickon Stark dead! I want Sansa and Arya Stark given to our loyal men to do with as they please! I want Catelyn Stark and her father's family dead! I WANT THEM ALL DEAD FOR THEIR TREASON!" Joffrey's rage frightened Cersei more than she thought possible. She took a deep breath and looked at her son.

"And they will be destroyed," she said. "No one will dare to oppose you once the treacherous Starks have been crushed and their line extinguished..." Cersei would have continued but one of the Crownland lords cut in.

"We will fight for you your grace," the lord said. "I'll summon my banners and march out and meet the heathens in battle. They will fall before our righteous arms." A chorus of approval went up then.

"We will drive them back beyond the Neck your grace," another called out. "We will beat them bloody and sack their snow covered wasteland that they call home. We'll tear down their castles and sow their fields with salt, see how they survive winter then." Others began to voice their support of Joffrey. _This is good_ , Cersei conceded. _This will give us the support that we need to defeat them, but we need to worry about Stannis and Renly first. Hmm, I think I'll need to pay for sellswords to fight for Joffrey_. The idea of using sellswords did not sit well with her, but even she knew that they needed the numbers. Her only real fear was what the Starks would do to Jamie when they began their pushback. _Forgive me Jamie my love, but I need to put our son first_.

As the nobles shouted out their willingness to support Joffrey a lone man backed out of the throne room, his eyes hardened. It was the same man who was glaring at Cersei earlier. As he left a guardsman barged past him and pushed through the crowd.

"Your grace," he yelled out, "Petyr Baelish has escaped!" Cersei narrowed her eyes before walking away shaking her head. _Can this day get any worse_?

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Hope you liked this chapter as it was an absolute pain to write up. Baelish was never going to be dealt with that easily, he's got the likes of Lothor Brune to help him as well as one or two (dozen) Gold Cloaks in his pocket.

I apologise if the political aspects were not that great. Politics is not my strong suit. Horas's POV section was done to bring in his family as well as getting Jeyne Poole out of the capitol, plus with Tyrion and Varys out of the way it seemed the best way to get Horas and his brother out of King's Landing (in canon they tried to escape on the ship called Moonrunner, but Tyrion and Varys managed to stop them).

Margaery is starting to develop feelings for Renly, which will make things much harder for her later on. Her and Horas's family will feature later on in the story.

And Cersei... well I felt that we needed to see how things are in the Red Keep. The informer who gave Cersei the letter implicating Baelish's involvement with Jon Arryn's death was a man who worked for Varys, and he was being used by Varys to keep an eye on both Cersei and Baelish. Of course with Varys dead his little birds will soon begin to scatter. Anyway, before he left King's Landing with Ned and his girls Varys would have given some last minute tasks for his little birds who remained in the capitol, and this 'informer' of Cersei's was one of them. Just Varys causing some last minute chaos for his enemies, even though he is no more, hehe.

Well, hope you liked it guys, let me know what you think. No flames as usual please, but constructive criticisms are welcome.


	10. Before The Storm

**Author's Note:** Hey guys, sorry for the wait. I was on holiday in Orkney last week and so spent more time admiring the islands and not enough time writing. Anyway, here is chapter ten for you.

Before we start I just want to tell you guys that updates will be much slower now. The reason being is that I am working on a couple of other fics that I have had sudden inspiration to do (again... gods and ancestors damn my imagination) so it'll take time to put up chapters. The new stories won't get put up just yet (and depending on whether or not I like them I might not post them at all) but I am also aiming to try to upload more than one chapter at a time. So if it takes weeks or a couple of months to post new chapters then hopefully you'll get more than one chapter at a time.

I won't divulge what my new stories are about, but I will tell you that one of them is my own original work (i.e. you won't see it here on FanFiction), so I'll be chopping and changing between fics where I can. So I'll try not to keep you guys waiting too long, but if I do take a long time, that is why. When I have enough chapters to upload for any new fic that I do on here I'll put up a notice of sorts on my account profile, so be sure to check that every now and then.

Right, enough from me, let's get to the story.

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

 **Before The Storm**

* * *

Jon

His head was still a mess, despite ten days passing since Eddard told him the truth. All his life he had wondered who his mother was, and now he learned not only about his mother but also his true father. Learning that he was half Targaryen was a massive shock, though not as much of a shock as learning that he was the result of rape. He felt bitter, angry at that piece of knowledge. He was still trying to come to terms with it, trying to accept it. _Why_? he thought. _Why couldn't I be the son of Eddard Stark? Why didn't he tell Lady Stark? She would've followed her husband even if she didn't love him at the time, wouldn't she_? The more Jon thought about it the more his head hurt.

Since the day he learned the truth he had tried to avoid Eddard and Catelyn as much as possible. The day after learning the truth Catelyn kept a respectful distance, giving him kind looks and kind words when she was close enough to speak with him. Eddard on the other hand was harder to avoid, mainly because he included him in meetings with Robb and a few others. Both Eddard and Catelyn did give him space and did not try to force him to spend time with either of them. His cousins were a different story though, apart from Sansa who was being overly friendly with him, showing him more attention than she used to. Robb and Arya however were still the same with him, as they had always been when they thought they were siblings.

Right now Jon and Grenn were teaching some of the newer men-at-arms how to fight properly. Grenn stood with a shield and spear-shaft in his hand. Instead of having an iron tipped head the shaft had a blunt end like a pommel for training purposes. Jon held his sword in hand while he had a shield in the other.

"The first thing to remember when someone charges at you with a spear is to use your shield to block them," he said to them. "Most spear-men you'll fight won't have shields themselves, which gives you an advantage, but if you should come across men with both spear and shield you will need to use your shield more aggressively. Grenn." Taking his queue Grenn lunged at Jon with his spear, aiming for Jon's head. Jon reacted quickly, smashing his shield upwards into Grenn's spear, sending it off course above his head before bringing the shield back down and rushing forward. When their shields met Jon raised his sword and placed the tip against Grenn's neck just beneath his jaw. Grenn smirked as he stepped back while Jon turned to face the men. "As you saw there I put my sword against Grenn's throat. Most of the time your opponent won't have a gorget to protect their neck, so the neck is the best place to aim for. Usually it's only knights that wear gorgets, but sometimes you'll find a well paid sellsword or a lord with one as well. It is still possible to go for the throat, but it'll be a lot harder for you." Jon nodded to Grenn who then stepped off to the side and pointed the tip of his spear to the training rack.

"Right, everyone, pair up and arm up," Grenn called out. "We'll go over this step by step."

For the next half hour Jon and Grenn taught the men how to fight and block with spears. They started without shields first before having half of the men use shields and spears while the other half used shields and swords, swapping them around after ten minutes. They kept this up for the half hour until Robb walked over to them. Jon watched his cousin wander over, his off hand gripping the hilt of his sword as he walked with Grey Wind beside him.

"You got this Grenn?" Jon asked his friend as he decided to go over to Robb. Grenn nodded his head and took over the training, calling Pyp over to help him. Jon walked over to Robb and bowed his head. "My prince," he said with a smirk. Robb rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"You're never going to stop that, are you?" Robb huffed. Jon chuckled as his cousin folded his arms in front of his chest. "Anyway, father wants us to gather in the great hall. He's decided on what our next step is I think." Jon nodded his head, his smirk falling.

"Let's go then," Jon said, walking past Robb who quickly fell in step beside him. "Any idea what the plan is?" Jon noticed Robb shake his head.

"We'll find out when we get there Jon," he answered. "All I know is I'm glad I'm not a Westerman."

Ten minutes later and the two of them were in the great hall. The tables had been rearranged in the middle of the hall to let the gathered lords get an easier look at the maps that were sprawled out. Jon saw that the maps were of the neighbouring Westerlands. Eddard was standing by the table, dressed in his usual grey and white clothing, but now with a crown on his head. The crown suited him, despite his initial grumbling about having to wear one. Like the crowns of the Winter Kings of old, Eddard's crown was an open circlet of hammered bronze with nine black iron spikes in the shape of longswords surmounted on it. Standing to his left was Greatjon Umber, who towered over everyone in the room. His son and heir, Smalljon, was standing next to him, with Maege Mormont and her daughter Dacey to Smalljon's left. On Eddard's right was the Blackfish, Ser Brynden Tully, who was leaning on the table looking at the maps. On his right was Robb's uncle, Ser Edmure, and Beric Dondarrion, the Stormlord who Jon learned had been tasked by Eddard to deal with the initial sacking of the Riverlands. There were other lords as well, including Lord Karstark and Lord Blackwood, but most Jon did not have time to register.

"Your grace," Robb spoke as he gave a respectful bow which Jon mimicked. Eddard looked at both of them before nodding his own head.

"Robb, Jon," he acknowledged, pointing to the map before them. "Now that you are here we can begin. Ser Brynden, what is the situation over the border?" The Blackfish straightened up and looked around the table at everyone who was gathered.

"The scouts I sent after we lifted the siege have reported back that an army is being assembled at a village called Oxcross by Tywin Lannister's cousin Ser Stafford Lannister," the Blackfish said. "It is south west of the Golden Tooth, near the pass beneath that castle. The Golden Tooth is the only way to gain easy access to the Westerlands from the Riverlands, but it is held by the Leffords who will have a garrison large enough to hold us up just long enough for Stafford Lannister to march this host along the pass should word reach them. Scouts can easily get past without being spotted, but an army is a different story. We will have to take the Golden Tooth, and quickly. If the Vale lords get here soon then any siege would be in our favour, but the longer we wait the sooner that host will be trained enough to march out and do damage." Jon looked at his uncle as he nodded his head.

"Is there any way to get around the Golden Tooth?" Eddard asked.

"None that we know of your grace," Lord Blackwood spoke. "Unless you want to go through the Reach and attack from the south the Golden Tooth is the only way in for us." Eddard looked at the young lord, nodding his head after a moment.

"Father, if I may?" Robb asked, drawing everyone's attention. Eddard looked at him and nodded his head. "If we march the bulk of our forces up to the Golden Tooth we can either have scouts on the other side to bring down ravens or any other messengers that are sent to Stafford Lannister's host, or see about trying to find another path that can bypass the Golden Tooth."

"The first idea sounds good my prince," Ser Marq Piper replied. "But as for the second, you'd be spending the next ten years at least trying to find such a path, and it'll take half that long at best for a new host from the Westerlands to be trained up."

"Have enough men looking Ser Piper and I'm sure you'll turn up something pretty quickly," Lord Karstark said as he folded his arms and stared at the Heir to Pinkmaiden. "Your grace, I agree with Prince Robb. We should send men to look and see if such a path exists. We wouldn't need a lot of men for such a search."

"Aye, we can take a few thousand men from Harrenhal once the Vale lords pull their fingers out of their arses," Greatjon boomed. Jon has learned over the last few days that when the Lord of Last Hearth speaks he actually shouts. _The man only talks normally when he tries to whisper_. "Those lads will have been dying for a fight for weeks now."

"Even so, I would rather we march out now your grace," Lord Jonos Bracken said. "We have enough men to trample the Leffords garrison into the dirt. We take the Golden Tooth and burn it down, and then we can advance into the Westerlands as we please." Robb scoffed at the suggestion, turning to face Lord Bracken.

"The Golden Tooth is more valuable if it still stands my lord," he responded. "If we take the Golden Tooth, we have to hold it. And with men coming from the Vale we will have the means to hold it." There was silence for a time, until Eddard cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him, waiting for him to speak as he looked over the map. When he spoke he pointed at the map, his finger hovering over the marker for the Golden Tooth.

"We will march on the Golden Tooth within a week," he spoke. "In the mean time I will send my son Prince Robb ahead with a large enough host that won't draw attention. Robb, you will take Lord Karstark and Lord Umber, along with their men, and you will search the area around the Golden Tooth and see about finding another path that we can use. Be as quick as you can though, it won't take long to march the rest of the host west." Jon watched Robb nod his head in response.

"When do I set out?" he asked.

"Tomorrow morning once you have broken your fast," Eddard replied. "If you find such a path you will send a messenger to inform us so that I can send more men, who will be led by Ser Edmure and Lady Mormont. If there is a path that we can exploit then we can take the Golden Tooth from two sides. Lady Lefford, who I understand is in charge of the castle, will more likely surrender at the sight of two hosts on either side. Once that is done we can march on Stafford Lannister's army and shatter them."

"Very well father, but can I make a suggestion?" Robb asked. Eddard nodded for him to continue and Jon looked at him, interested in what he was going to say. "If I find a path to bypass the Golden Tooth who can say where it will lead me to. I could find myself right on top of Oxcross, and then I will have to deal with the new Lannister host before marching onto the Golden Tooth. If that is the case then I will need more men with me if I am going to be able to deal with Stafford Lannister." Jon looked back at Eddard who looked to be deep in thought, his eyes narrowed as he stood with his arms folded. A few moments passed before Lord Blackwood leaned forward.

"Your grace, Prince Robb speaks sense in this regard. If you will allow me I will send my brother Lucas to ride out with him along with a portion of my men." The young Blackwood lord looked around the table at the gathered lords. "I am sure some others would gladly volunteer for such a task." Jon looked around the table and noticed that some of the others were nodding their heads in agreement, except for Lord Bracken who looked like he had swallowed something foul. _Probably annoyed that a Blackwood made the suggestion instead of him_ , he thought.

"A very good point from both of you," Eddard spoke. "If you find a path Robb then I will send enough men to be able to destroy the army that you will encounter. However, you will scout this host first and ascertain their strength before sending me a report. How strong the host is will determine if I should need to give you more men, and how many I give you will depend on the size of the path that you will need to march through. Take your time and do not rush. Keep a good distance from Stafford's host, and once we are in place you can strike, if it is necessary to do so." Robb nodded his head, and then the conversation turned to other matters.

For the next hour the lords discussed matters in regards to the North and their allies; how secure are their shores and borders, how many men are left in reserve, what supplies will be needed to ensure survival during the next winter. For a while Jon was bored and wondered if his uncle felt like he did during such tedious discussions, until finally Eddard dismissed the lords. Everyone left, leaving only Jon and Robb alone with Eddard. The man that Jon has called father for all of his life regarded them with a serious look in his eyes, his face stern as always. Jon knew then that they were dealing with their King, and not a parent figure. After a few moments Eddard spoke.

"So Jon, I see that you and Grenn are helping to train the men-at-arms," he stated. Jon shifted on the spot, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"We are indeed," he said. "It seemed like a good idea at the time." Eddard nodded his head as he sat down.

"Edmure has noticed that quite a few of the men look up to you," he said with a hint of amusement. "He seems to be under the impression that you are taking _his_ men away from him." Jon was startled by that.

"I can assure you that..." he began before Eddard held up his hand.

"Relax Jon. I pointed out that the men that you are training are from several areas, many of which don't fall under his jurisdiction. But I have to admit that training fresh levies how to fight with spear and shield as well as teaching then how to fight against men who do so seems unusual." Jon smirked slightly, looking down at the floor before chuckling slightly.

"It's not something usually taught to militia and levies as it can be difficult to wield both a spear and a shield, and requires the kind of training given to regular guardsmen and professional soldiers rather than new recruits," he answered. "I told Grenn about it and he suggested that we train the men up like that, should we ever come across a situation like that." Eddard smiled widely at Jon's explanation before gesturing to both him and Robb to sit down. Both of them sat down, Robb looking relaxed while Jon felt nervous. After a while Eddard spoke.

"I have been thinking about a lot of things recently Jon," he began. "Things that I should have done a long time ago, and things that I can do now myself. I have spoken with Catelyn, as well as some of my more level headed lords. And we have all come to the same agreement." Eddard fell silent for a moment, looking off to the side before looking back at Jon, his eyes gleaming with sadness. Jon felt a shudder go up his back, wondering what Eddard was about to say. "There are many things that I regret, but regardless of the truth of the matter, I do not regret you Jon," he said. "You might not be my son, but you are a Stark by blood. Cat and the others I spoke with agree with me in what I have decided to do." Eddard sat up straighter in his seat, clasping his hands together as he looked right at Jon.

"Father?" Robb spoke, his tone one of confusion and curiosity. Eddard looked briefly at Robb before looking back at Jon.

"If you still wish to take the name Stark you can," he said. "If you decide that you want this, then I will not only name you as Jon Stark, but I'll also give you a holdfast with plenty of land in a location of your choosing, and raise you up as a lord." Jon was speechless at this. _Me, a lord? With my own holdfast? That's_... Jon felt elation at this news, but he was not sure if he wanted it.

"I would gladly take the Stark name," Jon began, "but I'm not entirely sure about taking a holdfast of my own. I'm good with a sword, but being a lord is completely different." Eddard gave him a sad smile.

"It is Jon, and I learned the hard way what being a lord meant," he told him. "I was a second son, and so I was never supposed to inherit Winterfell, but after my brother Brandon was killed along with our father I had to step up and do my duty." Eddard drummed his fingers on the table in front of him before he continued. "If you feel that you would not make a good lord then let me assure you that you would be. You and Robb have both been given the same education, which I will insist that Bran and Rickon receive when they are old enough. You know how to fight with a sword and shoot arrows with a bow, but you also know more than that. You know your sigils, which lords rule which castles, where keeps and towns of importance are. You also know how to deal with matters of law." Eddard paused then, leaning slightly over the table and looking straight into Jon's eyes. "I have raised both you and Robb to be lords, knowing that you would work well together. Before Robert came to Winterfell and named me his Hand I had hoped to convince you to remain and be a part of our household, to help Robb and be his man when he needed further counsel." Jon was surprised at this admission from Eddard.

"Be my man, as in an advisor?" Robb asked, sounding surprised. "I'm sure that mother wouldn't have liked that, back then that is." Eddard chuckled lowly at that, shaking his head.

"No, she would not have," he said with a sigh as he leaned back. Jon looked down at his hands, thinking on what his uncle had said. It was true that Jon knew the basics of lordship, but that did not mean that he wanted to be a lord, not when he still had a lot to learn.

"I would like time to think about this," Jon said in answer. "I'm not sure that I could just accept this straight away. I need to consider everything that this means to me, and our family." Eddard looked at him and gave a small smile that disappeared quickly.

"Very well Jon," he responded. "I cannot expect you to accept this just like that. Take all the time you need to think this over, and when you are ready just come to me, and we'll talk about it." As he spoke he removed his crown, putting it down on the table in front of him. "Damn Greatjon for naming me King. That blasted thing is heavy." Jon and Robb both chuckled before stopping themselves. Eddard looked at them, trying a stern look before he smiled at them. It was the first smile that Jon has seen from him since the day Eddard was named King. "You're still boys despite what you've been through," he told them. "But you both know what responsibilities lay ahead for you, you especially Robb." Jon looked at his cousin and saw the awkward look on his face. _That's one thing I'll never envy you Robb_ , he thought. "Lord Karstark has been speaking with you about his daughter, Alys." Jon leaned back, his eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face while Robb bowed his head.

"Yes father," Robb replied. "Ever since Daryn Hornwood was killed Lord Karstark has been trying to get me interested in Lady Alys." Eddard chuckled, stroking a hand through his beard, which he had recently trimmed.

"Of course you wouldn't have needed to worry about that had you not stated that you would only take a Northern bride," he said with a slight grin. Robb looked down, his cheeks redder than the beard that he had grown. "Anyway, Lord Rickard only wishes our lines to be joined because we are distant kin, and he wants to have a grandson be the future King in the North. There are other Northern lords who have sons who need wives, and I am sure that one or two Riverlords would welcome a Northern bride. I would recommend your uncle, but Lord Frey wants to have his sister Roslin marry Ser Edmure. When the lords of the Vale arrive however we will have an opportunity to strengthen our alliance with them." Jon looked back at Eddard in surprise as he said that.

"But aren't the Vale already tied with the North and the Riverlands?" he asked.

"Aye Jon," Robb answered him. "My Aunt Lysa and her son, my cousin Robert. When he grows up he'll be the Lord of the Eyrie and the Defender of the Vale of Arryn. But there are some who are not happy with my aunt's demand that the Vale stay out of the war. A marriage between one of the more powerful Houses, like House Royce, would put my aunt in a tight spot, perhaps sour our relations with the Arryns, but would still ensure good relations between the North and the Vale." Eddard nodded his head at Robb, his eyes filled with pride.

"Indeed Robb," he responded. "You're learning fast. Tying ourselves further with the Vale would ensure that there will be less chance of a recurrence of our blood soaked history. Northmen and Valemen have shed enough blood over the Three Sisters and other islands in the Bite during the War Across The Water. The more we tie ourselves to them though..."

"The less likely we will go to war with them in the future," both Robb and Jon spoke as one. They looked at each other before looking back at Eddard, whose eyes were still full of pride.

"We would still have to appease Lysa and young Robert, but we can worry about that later," he said as he stood up. "For now though, I suggest that you both go and get some rest. Robb, as you already know you'll be riding out tomorrow with Lords Umber and Karstark. I'll be keeping Theon close at hand, while organising whatever men need to be organised."

"Okay father," Robb said as he rose from his seat. He turned to leave before stopping and speaking again. "Before I forget what will you do about the Dornish? They might still send an envoy to treat with us." Jon looked at Eddard whose eyes seemed to fill up with discomfort then.

"I'll deal with them and deliver the Mountain's head to them, as well as give them Amory Lorch," he answered. "Tywin Lannister I will deal with myself, but I see no reason to deny the Martells their justice in regards to the deaths of their sister and her children. The man who murdered Princess Elia and her son is already dead, we only have to deliver the murderer of Princess Rhaenys and ensure that Tywin Lannister will face justice, and then the Dornish will be appeased." Robb seemed content with that answer and he left the room, bowing to his father before he did so. He called out to Jon to ask if he would follow, but Jon declined. He wanted to speak with Eddard about Tyrion Lannister, to ascertain what would become of him. When Robb had left Jon waited for Eddard to speak, and he did not have to wait long. "Go on Jon, speak your mind." Jon cleared his throat before he started.

"I am wondering what you plan to do with the other Lannister prisoners your grace," he began. Eddard sighed quietly before rubbing his forehead.

"You don't have to address me by my title when it's just us Jon," he said softly. Jon gulped and looked away for a brief moment before looking back at him again.

"Even after the last week or so I still don't know what to call you," he admitted.

"Uncle or father, that is up to you Jon," Eddard said. "I know that a lot has changed for you, but that does not mean that you have to feel obligated to call me by a title when in private. And I won't demand you to call me father or uncle until you are ready, but can I ask you to not call me 'your grace' when it's just us?" Jon looked at Eddard and saw the look of pain in his eyes. _Have you always felt pain when looking at me, or is it only recent_? Jon nodded his head to Eddard, trying to ignore his cynical thoughts.

"I can manage that I think," Jon replied. Eddard nodded his head, breathing out as if he had just been holding a deep breath.

"To answer your question Jon, I am still to decide," he said. "Willem and Martyn are both boys, but Tyrion is a man grown. Tywin Lannister will die for the crimes that he has committed, there is no doubt about that. Jamie Lannister will also die for trying to murder Bran as well as his other crimes. The boys and Tyrion however I am thinking of sending to the Wall, but that might be harsh to do, especially to the boys. Perhaps I'll take young Willem as a ward when this war is done, and raise him to be a lord. I might seize Casterly Rock from the Lannisters and give it to someone else, but I will not let Tyrion go back there to become a lord. He has his father's wits about him, and that makes him dangerous." Jon nodded his head in understanding.

"So you'll send Lord Tyrion to the Wall?" he asked. Eddard nodded his head.

"He is too much of a threat to us. We're better off taking him away from the Rock than leaving him to his own devices." Eddard's voice was hard then; not full of hate or anger, but full of stern determination. Jon nodded his head before he spoke again.

"Or perhaps, if I may suggest this, he can be made use of by you?" Jon's suggestion was met with confusion from his uncle.

"What use would I get from him Jon?" Eddard asked him. "The man is a Lannister, and he will not help our family."

"He might help us after the war is ended though," Jon said, trying not to sound as if he were pleading for Tyrion. "Lord Tyrion has no love for his father, who from what I know has treated him like dirt his entire life. He has no love for him but he still holds affection for other members of his family." Eddard looked at Jon as he spoke and grunted an acknowledgement to him.

"A fair point Jon," he said. "But how would this help us?"

"If we offer to aid his younger cousins then maybe Lord Tyrion will aid us in restoring stability to the Westerlands after the war is done," Jon answered. "If we do this then we will have someone who knows the people of the Westerlands to help us with maintaining peace with whoever rules Casterly Rock, which will help immeasurably after this war has ended." Eddard walked around the table towards Jon, and when he closed the distance he placed his hand on Jon's shoulder.

"This is why I gave you the same education as Robb," Eddard spoke. "You both have good minds, and are quick learners." Jon stood up from his seat as his uncle spoke. "I will consider your words Jon, and once I have made up my mind I will speak with Lord Tyrion and see what he says. For now though go and get some rest. You might not have anything planned for tomorrow but I'm sure Robb would like to spend time with you before he rides off in the morning." Jon nodded his head.

"Of course," he said softly before turning to walk away.

"Jon," Eddard called out as he reached the door. Jon turned to face him, noticing a familiar look in his uncle's eyes; a look of fatherly affection. "I am proud of you lad. You're a better man than I'll ever be." Jon felt a lump form in his throat then. Praise from Eddard has always been something that Jon has wanted, and even though he now knows the man to be his uncle Jon still feels the same as he once did when he thought that Eddard was his father.

"Thank you, uncle," he said before walking out of the great hall.

* * *

Oberyn

Oberyn was still grinning even as Riverrun came into view. The night before he had a wonderful experience with a lovely young woman with sandy blonde hair that reached her waist. The woman was a widow who was helping the healers treating wounded men who served the Tullys, and she had been seeing off some of the men who had healed enough when Oberyn and his escort (which included his two eldest daughters) arrived. He gave some help to the healers, and then when Nymeria gave further assistance he went to set up rooms at the nearby inn for his escort. As the men and Obara settled for the night Oberyn took the lovely young widow into his room to have his way with her. The woman was pretty, and seemed shy at first, but after talking with each other for quite a while the woman willingly took off her clothes and spread her legs. Oberyn was gentle with her, but after he had given her his seed she took him into her mouth and pleasured him, much to his delight. They spent the next few hours enjoying each other, getting wilder and wetter, and the widow's moans of joy were music to his ears. When he woke up that morning Oberyn found the widow sat up and marvelling his body, running her fingers along his chest before gliding down to his stiff manhood. Before long they were at it again, until the widow had had enough and pulled herself off of him just as his seed squirted out and splashed onto her thighs.

That had been about five hours ago now. Oberyn could not stop grinning even as they rode towards the Tullys ancestral seat. He knew that he would need to be on his best behaviour as Doran would say, but he would try to find a woman for himself if it were possible. Keeping his eyes on Riverrun as his escort caught up Oberyn shifted himself in his saddle, watching the numerous men go about their daily business. Oberyn watched as a group of mounted men rode back into the camp on his side of the Red Fork, while just across the river from them a large band of infantry marched out from the camp. He followed the path that they took and saw that they would join up with a large group of men, some mounted and some on foot. That host had several banners fluttering above them; the white sunburst of Karstark, the roaring giant of Umber, and the grey direwolf of Stark. Oberyn heard the host from this distance as they bellowed out before they started to march.

"Looks like the Young Wolf is marching already father," Nymeria said from beside him. Oberyn looked at his second eldest daughter, who looked out of place in the warm clothes that she was wearing. Oberyn and his daughters, along with the twenty men who were escorting them, were all bundled up in warm clothing for the chillier climate of the Riverlands. Granted their clothing was nothing like the clothes worn by the Northmen, but it was more than what a Dornishman would wear in Dorne during the winter. "Do we ride up to that host or to Riverrun?" Oberyn looked back to the castle as his daughter asked her question, but before he could answer he saw a small group of over a dozen riders heading towards them.

"Looks like that's been decided for us Nym," Oberyn said to her as the men got closer to them. At the head of the group of mounted men was a young Northman who had brown hair and a small beard.

"You are approaching Riverrun, the seat of House Tully, sworn to the Starks of Winterfell, state your business," the man said in a tone of authority. Oberyn bowed his head and smiled in greeting despite being taken aback by the man's words. _Since when does Riverrun answer to Winterfell_? he wondered.

"I am Prince Oberyn, brother to Doran of the House Nymeros Martell, the Lord of Sunspear and Prince of Dorne," he responded when he raised his head. "I come here at the invitation of the Heir to Winterfell, Robb Stark, to discuss how our two Houses can work together against the Lannisters." The Northman's eyes widened slightly before he bowed his head.

"My prince, I apologise for any hostility that I may have shown you," he said. "I am Hallis Mollen, captain of the household guard. My liege, King Eddard, wishes to speak with you as soon as possible." Now it was Oberyn's turn to look wide eyed. _King Eddard? Well well well, that's a new development_ , he thought. He looked to his side and saw that Nymeria was pretty shocked as well.

"That explains why Riverrun would answer to the Starks," Obara said from Oberyn's other side. Oberyn hummed in agreement before looking back at Mollen.

"Lead us to the King then Hallis Mollen," Oberyn said.

The ride up to the gates of Riverrun took nearly an hour for the group to make. During that time Oberyn spoke with Mollen who told him everything about Robb Stark, who was now the Crown Prince of the Northern Kingdoms. Oberyn was very interested in what Mollen had to say about his liege and his family. Aside from Prince Robb and King Eddard, Mollen spoke about the Princesses Sansa and Arya, who were as different from each other as night and day, as well as King Eddard's bastard son Jon Snow. He also spoke briefly of the youngest sons Brandon and Rickon and their mother Queen Catelyn. Oberyn got the impression that Mollen was a man who spoke often and almost non-stop. _Just as well that I am not plotting against your liege lord's family_ , he thought. Soon the group were through the gates and walking into the main keep of Riverrun. Oberyn was glad to be inside the castle having forgotten just how cold it gets in the Riverlands. Mollen and three of his guards led Oberyn and his daughters through the castle to the lord's solar. Once they reached the door Mollen nodded to the guardsman stood outside the door, who opened the door and walked into the room. Oberyn heard the man speak briefly before a louder voice told Mollen to enter. He followed the guardsman with Obara and Nymeria beside him and found himself looking at Eddard Stark.

The last time that Oberyn saw the Northern lord was nearly eighteen years ago at the tourney at Harrenhal. The man sat before him now was older, but otherwise had the same dark brown hair and grey eyes that Oberyn saw when he first laid eyes on the then young man who was like him just a second son. The only real difference was that Eddard now wore a sword-crown of bronze and black iron, which Oberyn had to admit suited him. Sitting beside him was a woman who was the same age as him, with lovely auburn hair and blue eyes, wearing a dress of grey and blue. This was Catelyn Stark, now a Queen instead of a lady. Sitting next to her was a young girl who could have been Queen Catelyn's double; a girl with her long hair a brighter shade of auburn that Oberyn thought would shine with a copper hue in certain lights, and dazzling blue eyes. She wore a dress of blue and white and her smile was wide, and she looked the total opposite of the younger brown haired girl sitting opposite her beside King Eddard; this young girl had a long face that her brown hair framed and her eyes were grey in colour. She looked incredibly bored and did not smile.

"Your grace, your grace, my princesses," Mollen spoke as he stepped to the side. "Prince Oberyn of the House Nymeros Martell of Dorne, and his daughters..." Mollen trailed off then, leaving Oberyn to introduce his girls.

"Obara and Nymeria," he said with a smile. The Northman nodded his head before he continued.

"Prince Oberyn, my ladies. His grace Eddard of the House Stark, King of the North and the Trident, Defender of the Northern Kingdoms and Shield of the First Men. Beside him is her grace Queen Catelyn Stark, born of House Tully, the Lady of the Northern Kingdoms. And their daughters, the Princesses Sansa and Arya." When Mollen was done talking Eddard gestured for Oberyn and his daughters to take a seat. Oberyn sat down on the chair across from Eddard, while Obara and Nymeria sat down beside him.

"Well I must say that this is an interesting development," Oberyn said. Eddard inclined his head to him, a slight smile on his face, or at least what Oberyn thought was a smile.

"It is only a recent development Prince Oberyn," he replied. "My own bannermen decided that they no longer wanted to be bound to the Iron Throne, and after recent events I can only agree with them. It is time for the North to go its own way. The Riverlords only join us because they too are fed up with the Iron Throne, and I am certain that the Vale will follow us as well. A new age seems to be rising from this conflict. I can only hope that it will not mean the repeating of history from before the Targaryen conquest." Oberyn snorted at that.

"Maybe not now your grace, but who knows what will happen a hundred years from now? Perhaps our descendants will find themselves fighting each other as our ancestors did." Eddard narrowed his eyes at him then, his face becoming more stern than Oberyn thought possible.

"That is why we must settle the matter upon resolving this conflict," he spoke. "I intend to make an example out of House Lannister, but I won't do to them what Tywin Lannister did to the Houses Reyne, Tarbeck and Targaryen. I will bring them to heel and show them why lions should never goad a direwolf. They have started this war by placing me in prison for crimes I did not commit, and I will end it with justice. For the small folk of the Riverlands, for the lords whose families have suffered, and for all the victims of the past, which I believe brings us to why we are here." Eddard stood up from his seat and walked to a desk where Oberyn saw a scroll of paper with a wax seal with the Stark direwolf upon it.

"I had hoped to have justice for Elia and her children, my niece Rhaenys and my nephew Aegon," Oberyn stated. "I had hoped to be the one to kill the Mountain for what he did to Elia and Aegon, but under the circumstances I can accept his head. All the same I would like to meet the man who killed him so I can thank him, and get him a drink." Eddard chuckled slightly at that.

"I am sure that Ser Wylis Manderly would appreciate that, though you may want to get him some food too," he said in a light-hearted tone. Oberyn chuckled as well before continuing.

"Your son, Prince Robb promised my family that we would have Amory Lorch," he said as he folded his legs. "There was also something about Tywin Lannister, but Doran is of the mind that you will execute him yourself." Eddard sat back down with the scroll of paper in his hand.

"That is true Prince Oberyn," he replied. "Tywin and his son Ser Jamie will die by my hand for their crimes. Cersei I will deal with accordingly depending on what the lords say in regards to her, but unlike what her father had done with your niece and nephew I will not harm her two youngest children. Joffrey will be dealt with harshly for wanting me and mine dead, but Myrcella and Tommen are innocent, and I will not harm them." Oberyn smiled at that; he may hate the Lannisters and the Baratheons but he has never liked the idea of harming children and he never would do so, not even to the children of his enemies.

"I would not argue with you in this your grace," he said. "But I would ask that you stay your hand where Tywin is concerned until my brother and other lords from Dorne have arrived to witness said justice being carried out. I know that many from Dorne would like to see the Old Lion put to death for what I am certain he had ordered done to my sister and her children, and it would take time to allow them to travel." Eddard looked over to his wife, who sat up straighter in her seat.

"I am sure that we can agree on that my prince," Catelyn spoke. "Lord Lannister is the reason for so many of our woes, and the people of Dorne are not the only ones who would like to see him brought to justice." Oberyn smiled at her as he bowed his head while trying not to let the smile become a smirk; something told him that Eddard would not take too kindly to him if he knew what filthy thoughts Oberyn was having in regards to what he would like to do with Catelyn.

"Ser Amory Lorch will be delivered to you to take to Dorne, along with the head of Gregor Clegane," Eddard said then, interrupting Oberyn's thoughts. "If your brother would offer military aid then I would welcome the additional men." Oberyn smiled at that and relaxed in his seat.

"I am sure that Doran would be willing to send in additional spears for your cause, but I fear that by the time that we get them ready then the conflict could well be over," Oberyn said. Eddard inclined his head.

"Very true, but both Lannisport and Casterly Rock would have enough guardsmen to withstand an assault," he stated. "Therefore we would need additional men to take those places. Surely the Dornish would be willing to aid in the downfall of the Rock?" Oberyn grinned wider than he did earlier that day.

"I trust that we would get the," Oberyn cleared his throat before he continued, "lion's share of the spoils, if you'll pardon the jape?" While Eddard and Catelyn did not seem to find his jape funny the girls did; Sansa brought her hand up to hide her mouth and disguise her giggle as a cough while Arya just laughed shamelessly until a glare from her mother silenced her.

"As recompense for waiting nearly sixteen years for justice I am sure that we can come to an agreement, though we would have to discuss the further details after the Rock has been taken," Eddard said. "The Riverlords want justice as well. We would need to speak with everyone present to determine a fair settlement."

"Of course your grace," Oberyn said. "Now, with you being declared as King in the North I trust that you won't kneel to the Iron Throne?" Eddard nodded his head. "I doubt that Doran would see Dorne bow to either of Robert's brothers, and the spoiled little fool on the throne right now won't get our support, so taking that into consideration I think it would be in our best interests to form an alliance with each other to keep the Baratheons at bay. Dorne can defend itself the way it has for thousands of years, as can the North and the Vale, but the Riverlands will always have to worry about invasion." Eddard hummed in agreement.

"But with an alliance with Dorne the kingdoms under the Iron Throne's dominion would have to worry about an attack from the south which would force them to choose between committing forces to the Riverlands and loosing castles along the Dornish Marches, or commit forces to the Dornish Marches and loosing ground gained in the Riverlands," he stated. Oberyn nodded his head in answer. Eddard narrowed his eyes at that, as if contemplating something that was unpleasant for him. "I take it that your brother would prefer a marriage to seal this alliance?" he asked, his voice strained. _Not a topic we like to discuss I take it_? Oberyn thought to himself.

"If I know Doran then he would be open to the idea of marriage," he replied slowly. "He would however like to discuss such a matter himself, so if it is alright with you we can worry about that at a latter date." Oberyn noticed how Eddard seemed to relax a little when he said that.

"That seems fair enough, though such a conversation would have to happen with my wife and other family present, especially those of my children who would be affected," he stated in a tone that left no room for argument.

"Agreed your grace," Oberyn said with a respectful smile. "That is understandable." Eddard nodded his head and leaned forward, passing the scroll over to him. Oberyn took the scroll and looked at it, brushing his thumb over the wax direwolf seal.

"That is a letter for your brother Prince Doran," Eddard spoke. "I trust that you can make sure that it gets to him without delay?" Oberyn raised a brow before standing up.

"I shall send it with the head of Clegane and Ser Amory your grace," he answered. "I don't suppose we can have rooms to rest up for the next few days can we?" Eddard looked at Catelyn who gave him a small smile.

"I am sure that I can persuade my brother to give you some rooms Prince Oberyn," she said, her voice kind. "Girls, come with me will you?" Catelyn walked out of the room with her and Eddard's daughters following close behind.

"Shall we go outside for some fresh air Prince Oberyn?" Eddard asked him.

Oberyn followed the Northman outside with Obara and Nymeria following him. Mollen and a handful of guardsmen joined them on their walk, a couple of the Northmen eyeing him and his daughters warily. They walked through the corridors until they came to a door that led them out to a wall. Oberyn walked beside Eddard as he led them along the ramparts that gave them a view of the courtyard of Riverrun on one side and the land on the other side of the water-filled moat on the other. Oberyn was looking down at the small group of men in the courtyard who were being trained by three young men, one of whom looked incredibly similar to Eddard; his dark hair was untamed, he had the beginnings of a beard, and his eyes were grey in colour. Oberyn noticed that the young man was rather skilled with a sword, and he was trouncing three of the men he was training. He watched as the young man parried a blow before stepping to the side and tripping his opponent just in time to deflect the incoming slash from another. He smacked the flat of the blade against that man's shin before smashing the pommel against the wrist, forcing the man to drop his sword. The third man lunged at him, thrusting his sword at the young man only to have the blow parried away and receive a jab to the ribs.

"Just as well that they are using blunt training blades," Obara said. Oberyn chuckled slightly before looking over to Eddard who had a strange look in his eyes; a look that seemed to be a mix of pride and sorrow.

"Jon has had an affinity for swordplay since he was old enough to wield a blade," Eddard said. "He and Robb are both good at many things, but Robb is better at just about everything that a lord should be able to do. When it comes to swordplay though, Jon is the better of the two." Oberyn looked from Eddard to Jon, and after a few moments he then realised that he was looking at the bastard son of Eddard Stark; the one spot on the honour of the Lord of Winterfell.

"He does look very much like you your grace," Oberyn said, watching as Jon spoke with the men he just trounced in training.

"You need to be more aware of your surroundings," he heard Jon say to them. "A skilled swordsman can deal with more than one foe at a time if he's skilled enough."

"He does indeed," Eddard said quietly. "Robb has his mother's Tully look, as do my other sons and Sansa. Jon and Arya are the only ones of my blood to look like Starks, but I care not for their looks." Oberyn was a little bit surprised at that as he thought that most people from outside of Dorne cared about how their children looked. He kept quiet though, not wishing to insult Eddard if he can help it. They stood silently for about twenty minutes, watching Jon train the other men, until Nymeria decided to speak.

"I apologise if I seem a bit too forward your grace, but where is Prince Robb?" she asked. "I expected him to be present when my father arrived." Oberyn looked back at Eddard and saw him looking at his second eldest daughter with a serious expression.

"He is leading a host west, to deal with any troublesome Westermen," he answered. "I'll be following him in the next few days with more men." Oberyn was about to speak when Obara spoke up.

"Your son is scouting ahead isn't he?" she stated. Eddard looked back at her with a raised brow. "His host seems too small to be going to battle, and you have twice as many men here as have gone with Prince Robb." Oberyn contained a sigh at his eldest daughter's bluntness.

"Very perceptive of you," Eddard responded. Oberyn cleared his throat.

"Obara here is military minded your grace, and not anywhere near as diplomatic as Nymeria, are you my dear?" He said that last remark towards Obara with a tone telling her to remain silent until spoken to. Obara looked at him with hardened eyes but bowed her head regardless.

"Nevertheless your daughter is right Prince Oberyn," Eddard replied. "I sent Robb ahead to determine the situation and to plan our next move until I regroup with him, hopefully with reinforcements." Oberyn looked at the man and opened his mouth to ask what he meant when a young lad who looked just old enough to be a squire ran up to them.

"Your grace," the boy shouted breathlessly. "A large host has been spotted... riding from the east... just now. Ser Ryger sent me to tell you." Eddard looked at the boy and nodded his head.

"Show me," he told him. The boy walked back with Eddard and Oberyn following close behind. Oberyn looked to his side to see both his daughters walking along with him. After a few minutes Oberyn and Eddard found themselves watching a large host of mounted men riding from the east alongside the river. Oberyn squinted his eyes as he observed the fluttering banners above the men before leaning to his side to speak to Nymeria.

"Nymeria, your eyes are better than mine. What banners do you see?" He looked across at his daughter who was leaning with her hands against the ramparts.

"The black iron studs on bronze of House Royce, the red castle on white field within a red embattled border of House Redfort, and the black broken wheel on green of House Waynwood are the more prominent banners father," she answered. Oberyn looked back at the host and sure enough he saw those same banners that Nymeria called out.

"The knights of the Vale are here," Eddard said. Oberyn looked at the man and saw him smiling, and then he remembered what Eddard told him earlier and he understood why.

"They are coming to offer their support aren't they?" he asked.

"They are indeed Prince Oberyn," Eddard said before he walked along to a tower. Oberyn followed him and soon found himself standing in the courtyard with his daughters stood on either side of him. They stood and watched for twenty minutes as the courtyard became a hive of activity with men moving crates and barrels out of the way while gathering training equipment and putting it away as well. As this happened important individuals arrived, namely Ser Edmure Tully and his sister Catelyn who walked to stand beside her husband. Two minutes before the first knights rode in Eddard and Catelyn's daughters walked over to join them; Sansa looking the picture of a perfect lady while Arya looked a little bit dishevelled, as if she had been running about or sparring. A minute later the activity in the courtyard died down and Oberyn watched as Eddard and Catelyn stood together, looking very much like how a King and Queen should be, with Sansa and Arya standing quietly next to them. It was then that Oberyn noticed the massive beast that looked like a dog, only much bigger, standing beside Arya. Oberyn looked around the courtyard and saw Jon Snow standing a little bit further away, with a white furred beast beside him.

"Nymeria, look at those big dogs there," Obara said. A couple of the men beside them heard them, but the Starks did not. However the beast beside Arya looked at them as if she had heard them, tilting her head to the side and looking at them inquisitively. Arya looked at the beast and tugged at her fur pelt.

"Nymeria, stay," Oberyn heard Arya say to the beast, who looked up at her and then settled down.

"Those are not dogs," the man behind them said. Oberyn looked over his shoulder to see a man wearing the armour of a Mormont guardsman. "They are direwolves, a gift from the old gods to the Starks." Oberyn's eyes widened with shock; he had heard how Robb Stark has a direwolf riding beside him in battle, but he always thought that that was mere rumour. Now though he has seen two such beasts, and he was not sure what to make of it.

After a short while the gates opened up and a group of knights rode into the courtyard. They were dressed in steel plate, with various banners displaying allegiance to some of the Houses of the Vale. As most of the horses came to a stop three continued to move towards the Starks, with two men and a woman mounted upon them. When they were five yards away they stopped and dismounted their steeds before walking the rest of the way. Eddard stepped forwards a couple of feet, and when they were three feet away the three Valemen knelt down muttering 'your grace' to him. They were knelt down for a short while until Oberyn noticed the Stark patriarch signal to them to stand up.

"Lord Royce, Lord Redfort, Lady Waynwood," Eddard spoke in a voice that seemed devoid of emotion. "I bid you welcome to my good-father's home." The Vale lords and lady bowed their heads.

"Here we are again, your grace," Lord Royce spoke.

"Sixteen, nearly seventeen years ago we joined you here with Lord Arryn to ally ourselves with the Riverlands to help with our fight against the Targaryens," Lady Waynwood said.

"We were allies then," Lord Redfort began, "and we come as allies once again." Oberyn watched as the two lords drew their swords and planted them down before Eddard's feet while a man dressed in the same colours as Lady Waynwood walked up with his sword drawn and handed it to the elder lady who planted it by Eddard's feet. _This is turning into an interesting day_ , Oberyn mused as he watched the proceedings with a look of shock.

* * *

Bran

Bran woke up with a slight twinge in his bad leg. He groaned as he sat up, feeling stiff and sore. The day before he had gone riding outside the walls of Winterfell, but he had decided not to go near the Wolfswood until his family had returned from the south. His leg has been slowly getting better, and he could now walk a short distance without his cane. Still he kept it close by, not wishing to leave it as he still has need of it. As Bran put his feet down on the floor he felt a jolt of pain shoot up his leg. He bit down on his lip and muffled the curse that threatened to bubble up. After a few minutes the pain ebbed away and Bran was slowly standing up. He limped over to where his clothes were and put them on, sitting down once his breeches were pulled up. When he was dressed he grabbed his cane and walked to the door. He opened it to find Maester Luwin standing on the other side approaching his room.

"Ah, good morning Bran," Luwin said with a smile. Bran smiled back and walked out into the corridor.

"Good morning Maester Luwin," he answered. "Do we have much to do today?" he asked. Luwin nodded his head in response before walking along the corridor with Bran following beside him.

"As I understand it we have only got a couple of people coming to see you about their troubles," the aged tutor answered. "It shouldn't take too long. After that we will have a meeting with Ser Rodrik about training more guards. With your brother away with the bulk of our forces we will need more men to replace them." Bran sighed at this.

"And then we will need to find more stonemasons, more farmers, more sheep herders, and more merchants willing to travel over here," he said trying not to sound too bitter. "How has father managed to put up with all of this?" Luwin gave a little chuckle.

"Your father was the exact same as you when he first settled as Lord of Winterfell Bran," he told him with a smile. "There is nothing wrong being frustrated, just so long as you remember to not let it drive you. If you get too frustrated then you'll make mistakes, and that won't go down well with anyone will it?" Bran returned Luwin's smile as they walked along.

"Well then, let's go and see what we can do," he said.

A couple of hours later after breaking his fast Bran was sat on the high seat in the great hall with Maester Luwin sat on his left and little Rickon to his right. Rickon was bored to tears with just sitting there with nothing to do, so he was fidgeting in his seat. Bran had to scold him a couple of times when he got out of hand, but other than that he was fairly quiet. Luwin sat quietly beside Bran with his hands clasped together on the table before him with sheets of parchment nearby along with an inkwell and quill if he had to write anything down. Bran sat with his right hand resting on the top of his cane while his left hand rested on the arm of the chair. A couple of servants wandered over with cups of water for them; one of them was the wildling girl Osha, whom Robb and Theon took prisoner that day when Bran went riding for the first time since he fell. She was one of a handful of wildlings being led by a Night's Watch deserter, and she was the only one to survive; Robb, Grey Wind and Summer killed most of the wildlings while Theon shot an arrow into the deserter when he held a dagger to Bran's throat. Osha was spared and questioned on why they were south of the Wall.

Osha had explained to Robb and Bran that there was trouble brewing beyond the Wall that she and her friends wanted no part of. A deserter called Mance Rayder who has lived with the wildlings for many years now has been getting the various wildling clans to join him in a bid to force the Thenns to share their bronze with the other clans. Osha explained that the Thenns are far more organised than other wildlings with their own lords and laws, and are led by a man who goes by the title of Magnar. Theon had laughed at the thought of wildlings being better organised, but Robb had ordered him to be silent. Osha told them that Mance was preparing for a possible war with the Thenns if they did not share, and there had been talk of some skirmishes between the Thenns and the other wildlings. Robb had sent a raven to Castle Black to ask if this was true, and the Lord Commander had responded that he has heard of these rumours and has sent men to investigate.

As Osha and the other servant put their drinking cups down a group of small folk entered the great hall. The herald announced the start of the session of court and Bran waved the first petitioner over. The man was old, with a weathered face and grey hair. He identified himself as the elder of a village some twenty miles to the north of Winterfell and mentioned that with many of the village's men south fighting with Robb that they had few men to carry out repair work where it was needed, especially around one of the village's main buildings which was falling apart. Bran spoke with Luwin briefly and agreed to send additional men to the village to help with the repairs. The second man was about the same age as Bran's father and had the look of a man who has seen battle with a scar on his face cutting over his right cheek, and he walked with a limp. He was asking for help with finding a new home for his family; his wife was pregnant with their third child and their old village couldn't support another mouth to feed at the moment even with his eldest son, a seventeen year old, fighting in the south.

"Our village had been falling on hard times milord," he said when Bran asked how the village was able to feed its inhabitants before Robb issued the call to arms. "The crops from the nearby farm were not as plentiful as the last time and with our taxes that we have to pay to Winterfell we barely had enough food to last the next year." Bran looked over to Luwin when the man finished speaking.

"Ideas?" he asked him quietly.

"If the man has a trade then that could help with finding a new home for his family," Luwin counselled. Bran nodded his head and looked back at the man.

"Do you have a trade that you are trained in?" he asked the man, who shook his head in answer.

"I have not a trade as such milord, but I'm a decent archer and could hunt well, until I near lost me leg during the Greyjoy Rebellion," he said. "I fought during that war and Robert's Rebellion too and I know how to fight, though I cannot walk far let alone march nowadays before me leg decides to give me grief." Bran sighed at that answer before looking towards Ser Rodrik.

"Do we have room for another guard trained in archery Ser Rodrik?" he asked the old master-at-arms, who gave a slight bow of the head.

"If the man can still use a bow and loose off arrows then I can make use of him," he answered. "And if he is as good as a well trained levy then that helps me even more." The man stood up straighter at that, looking somewhat brighter at what he heard.

"Back during the Greyjoy Rebellion I helped to train other men-at-arms in archery," he claimed. "If it's not too presumptuous of me I can help with training men here at Winterfell, if you'll have me that is milord?" Bran looked at Luwin before looking across at Ser Rodrik. Both inclined their heads to him, Luwin with an encouraging smile while Ser Rodrik had his usual gruff look about him. _They want me to decide for myself_ , Bran quickly realised. He drew in a deep breath before nodding.

"We can always do with another man trained in archery," Bran spoke, trying his best to speak with a voice of authority. The man perked up at that, a broad smile lighting his features. "You'll answer to Ser Rodrik who will oversee any training that he feels you need to re-familiarise yourself with, and then if he is comfortable with it you can begin to help him train guardsmen in archery. The gods know it'll be a massive help to him. In the meantime I'll see about sorting out lodgings in the winter town for your family." The man bowed as low as he could to Bran, the smile not leaving his face. When he raised up from the bow he had a look of relief in his eyes.

"Many thanks milord," he said before Bran dismissed him with a smile of his own. As the man left the hall Bran got ready to stand up, only to stop when a servant came rushing into the hall.

"Maester Luwin, milord Stark, this message just arrived moments ago," the servant said. "The messenger had rode hard for the last few days with barely any rest. Shall I see to him?" Bran nodded his head.

"Make sure the man gets plenty food and a good rest," he told the servant as Luwin took the letter from him and examined it before passing it to Bran. "And pass along my thanks if you would." The servant bowed to him before turning and walking out of the hall. As he left Bran looked at the letter saw the wax direwolf seal of his House and broke it, unrolling the letter to read its contents.

 **Bran,**

 **Father has arrived at Riverrun. He managed to escape from King's Landing with both Sansa and Arya, and Jon was with them as well. It is because of him that they were able to get to us as knights loyal to Stannis Baratheon had attacked them. There is so much to tell you that it would take many letters to tell you everything. You will learn much from the letter that father will send soon, but there is one thing that I will tell you now.**

 **During a discussion with the lords of both the North and the Riverlands it was decided that we shall never again bow to the Iron Throne. Lord Umber declared our father as the King in the North and was followed by every other lord present. Therefore we are both princes, and the girls are princesses. Mother will return in a few weeks with the girls, but I will stay with Jon and father as we bring war to those who will oppose us.**

 **When you next see them mother will be Queen Catelyn, and our sisters will be addressed as Princess Sansa and Princess Arya. As you may imagine Arya is not happy with her new title. Our father now goes by the titles of King in the North and the Trident, Defender of the Northern Kingdoms and Shield of the First Men. That last title by the way was Lord Umber's idea.**

 **I will see you soon brother,**

 **Robb Stark, Crown Prince of Winterfell**

Bran was quite shocked with what he just read. Not once did he ever think that this would be a possible outcome of this war. He just sat there and stared blankly at the letter for quite some time until Luwin spoke to him.

"Bran, are you okay?" he asked him. Bran looked over at the aged tutor and healer, and slowly nodded his head.

"I'm fine Maester," he replied. "News from Riverrun. Father and my sisters are free, having somehow escaped the capitol. They are at Riverrun with Jon and Robb, and..." Bran looked back at the letter again before passing it to Luwin, not trusting himself to say what he had read. Luwin took the letter and read it over slowly, his eyes widening as he got to the end.

"Well then," Luwin started, "I think we had better get ready to receive our Queen and the Princesses when they return mustn't we my prince?"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I hope you liked that guys. So Robb is now marching to the west and Oberyn has arrived and gotten an agreement with Ned. I'd feel sorry for Amory Lorch if he wasn't such an awful excuse for a human being. Next chapter we'll get things from the POV of the Vale lords, and see where else I go.

Now, before I forget there is a couple of points raised in reviews that I would like to clear up:

 **Felius** , if you are still following this story = Anyone travelling from north of the Twins to Riverrun would have to cross the Freys bridge, but the King's Road (which connects Winterfell to King's Landing) goes PAST the Twins, so anyone travelling from one to the other or any point in between would not need to cross the Twins. There are other points along the Green Fork (the river that runs through the Twins) that can be used to cross over and eventually get to Riverrun, but the path Robb's army took in my fic brought them into contact with Tywin Lannister's host. In BOOK canon Roose Bolton marched his part of the army along the Green Fork and engaged Tywin's army to distract him from Robb's force as they made their way to Riverrun via the Whispering Wood and the Twins before that. Tywin's host and the King's Road are east of the river, and Riverrun is west of it. I hope that clears this up for you.

 **Fapman** = I would think that at this stage in the canon story Varys would not seek to remove Littlefinger because he was still there, but as Varys frees Ned and his daughters I would think realistically that he would cause some damage to those who would be detrimental to his plans (he would do a lot of damage even away from King's Landing, but of course he dies in this fic). I can totally see Varys giving instruction to his little birds to spread such news that would lead to the disgrace of Littlefinger if Varys had left the capitol first, but that's just me. And Littlefinger has only been removed from King's Landing, not from the story. As for Renly and Margaery, in Renly's POV earlier on he was not in love with Margaery and felt disgusted with himself after bedding her. Bear in mind that so far that is his only POV. Margaery on the other hand, she is slowly falling for Renly, but doesn't realise it fully until after she is leaving for Highgarden. As for saying 'I love you', Renly was in public view, so he said that for appearances sake (granted I probably should've pointed that out then, but hey ho). As for his actual feelings, we'll have to wait until we get another POV from him (unless I decide to be a total bastard and not give him another POV (think I'm slowly turning into a cruel sadistic monster)).

And to the **guest** reviewer who made mention of there being not much worth reading since a previous update, that kind of nonsense does not do any good for any author at all. Either review the chapter and point out two positives for every negative, or do NOT bother with leaving a review at all.

Anyone wondering what that last point was all about, I ask you to go to **DizzyDG** 's profile and read what she has typed out. It's a long read, but her words are something that I agree with whole heartedly. I love her work very much and it saddens me that some people out there are being churlish towards her, and it seems that I am getting some people being like that as well.

Right, I hope you guys haven't been put off by that rant at the end there, but I felt that needed to be said. Felius and Fapman, I am not ranting at you guys so please don't take my words the wrong way. The rant was aimed at the guest reviewer.

So, let me know what you guys think so far. Reviews are welcome, just no flames please. We are people after all, not dragons (and there are no dragons here, hehehe).


	11. Old Allies, New Paths

**Author's Note:** This is update 1 of 2 for today. Warning for language and violence.

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

 **Old Allies, New Paths**

* * *

Yohn

The Lord of Runestone has seen his fair share of battle. He has fought against the Clansmen of the Vale many times as well as fighting in both Robert's Rebellion and the Greyjoy Rebellion. He has killed men more times than he would care to remember, but he has never flinched from doing what must be done. But he was glad that common sense seemed to finally be prevailing where this new conflict was concerned. A few months ago Yohn and his sons Andar and Robar travelled to King's Landing to take part in the tourney that Yohn's friend King Robert had organised to honour Ned Stark's appointment as his new Hand. Ned being Ned did not take part in the tourney, but Yohn and his sons did. They all lost but Yohn did not mind as much as his youthful self would have done. Then weeks later during a hunt that Yohn and Andar took part in Robert was mortally wounded by a boar. Yohn and his son helped to bring Robert back to the Red Keep before finalising their preparations to leave the capitol. Robert died the next day, and Yohn heard that Ned had been arrested for treason. Fearing that Queen Cersei would give an order for him to be arrested as well Yohn rode for the Vale with Andar beside him. Robar had left much earlier to join Lord Renly, and Yohn learned much later that he was now a Kingsguard knight in service to Renly who named himself King.

Yohn had felt bad for leaving the capitol when Ned had been arrested; he knew Ned well enough to know that he would never commit treason, especially against Robert. He has known them since they were boys fostered with old Lord Jon at the Eyrie, and he knew that they were best friends. He would have helped Ned if he could but he only had his eldest son and a small guard so he could not do much good at all. When he returned to Runestone he gave the order for his bannermen to raise their levies, knowing that Ned's son would no doubt call his own banners. As he was getting ready he received a raven from Lady Lysa Arryn commanding him to stand down, declaring that the conflict had nothing to do with the Vale. Yohn was incensed at this command, but being an honourable man he followed his lady's order. For weeks he sat at his ancestral seat and spoke with his fellow lords and his vassals while at the same time trying to convince Lady Arryn to send aid to the Riverlands; they were her lord father's lands and they were being attacked by Lord Lannister's men. Still Lady Arryn did nothing, much to Yohn's annoyance.

After more than a couple of months of sitting around waiting Yohn had received another raven, only this time the message had the Stark direwolf upon the seal. He opened the letter and read that which seemed to be impossible; Lord Lannister was taken prisoner along with his second son Tyrion and two of his nephews by none other than Robb Stark himself. Ned's lad had asked him to come to Riverrun to discuss how to deal with the Lannisters and Yohn decided to urge Lady Arryn to allow him to go, and to send her own representative as well. He thought that she would stir now that her sister's son had achieved such a victory, but he could not be any more wrong. Lady Arryn threatened to have him arrested if he ever mentioned this matter to her again, and once again ordered her bannermen to stand down. However as he was growing impatient Yohn received a surprising visit from Lady Anya Waynwood and Lord Horton Redfort, both of whom declared their support for Robb Stark. Not long after that other Houses throughout the Vale declared their intent to march out to war. Lady Arryn commanded and threatened her lords from the safety of the Eyrie but most would not pay her heed. The Graftons and a few other Houses were refusing to gather their men and join the war, while Ser Lyn Corbray was challenging everyone who defied Lady Arryn and calling them oathbreakers; the fool even sent a challenge for a duel to Yohn which he promptly ignored.

After a few days of preparation the knights and men-at-arms of the Vale marched out with Yohn and Andar at the front with Lord Redfort and Lady Waynwood beside them. No one tried to stop them as they marched out, which Yohn was grateful for. His only concern was that he had left enough men to defend Runestone should any of the other Houses try to seize his lands. Nevertheless he trusted his master-at-arms and chosen castellan, Ser Samwell Stone, to defend Runestone should the worst happen. Barely four days after they had passed the Bloody Gate the Vale host was informed that Ned had escaped from King's Landing with his daughters. Yohn was grateful that his friend had managed to escape from Cersei, and the news did much to raise the morale of the men even more. When the host was two days ride from Riverrun Yohn heard something that he just could not quite believe; Ned was now the King in the North, with all of his bannermen swearing oaths to him along with the Riverlords. That night Yohn and the other lords of the Vale gathered to discuss this rather surprising news.

Just as Yohn had thought some lords declared that the Vale should bend to the Starks while most were immediately against the idea due to the blood soaked past between the Vale and the North from over a thousand years ago. Before Yohn could shout those fools down Anya stood and counselled that they speak with Ned first and then discuss the matter properly about whether they should bend to the Starks or the Baratheons after the war was won. Horton however pointed out that both Stannis and Renly were neither particularly suitable choices, with Renly being tied to the power hungry Tyrells whom most of the Vale lords were not too keen on and Stannis having taken to a foreign faith and intending to overthrow the faith of the Seven. That had angered every one of the gathered lords; when their ancestors came to Westeros from across the Narrow Sea the Andals landed in the Vale, and the faith had spread from there to begin with. One of the more pious lords had declared that they should not follow the Starks due to their insistence of following the old faith, saying that Ned would make them abandon the Seven. Yohn had added his voice at that point, silencing every one of the lords. He pointed out that the Manderlys of White Harbour and some of their vassal Houses who live in the North kept faith with the Seven and were not ever persecuted for it by the Starks or any of the other Northern Houses.

"I know Ned well enough to know that he would never make us bow before the weirwood trees and pray to the old gods," he told them. "Ned is a man of honour. He was raised by Lord Arryn alongside our late King Robert. He like so many others from the North keep the old gods as they have done since long before the Wall was raised to keep out the Others. His wife Lady Catelyn, or Queen Catelyn as I should probably say now, has worshipped the Seven all her life. Ned loves her dearly to the point that he had built a sept in Winterfell for her to pray in. Their children have been raised to respect both religions, with young Robb keeping his father's gods while showing respect to his mother's faith. The Seven will never become dominant in the North, but that does not matter." The same pious lord who spoke earlier was outraged by that statement, and Yohn had to calm himself before continuing. "You are all worried about loosing our gods if we support Ned when we would only loose our gods if we support Stannis. Ned rules with justice and honour, which to us of the Vale is far more important. Ned cares not for what gods we keep so long as one does not try to convert anyone from their faith to another." The lords fell quiet as they realised the truth to Yohn's words. "The choice before us is simple my lords; support those who do not care one whit for us and would enforce their will upon us without hearing us, or support those who care for justice and would listen to any of our grievances and not try to make us abandon thousands of years of tradition. The Baratheons who would do as they wish and ignore us, or the Starks who value tradition and honour and would treat us equally." After Yohn had put it across like that the decision was indeed very simple to make.

Now Yohn was placing his sword by Ned's feet along with Horton and Anya, who had taken her son's sword and placed it down herself. They had just rode through the gates of Riverrun with several of their knights accompanying them, and as they entered the courtyard Yohn saw Ned standing with a crown atop his head. He was stood beside Catelyn who looked as beautiful as ever and two girls who Yohn recognised as Ned's daughters. There was no sign of young Robb, but Yohn did notice Ned's bastard son Jon off in the distance. Once Yohn and the others had placed their swords down he spoke, his voice loud and clear.

"Your grace, I Yohn of House Royce, the Lord of Runestone, do hereby declare fealty to House Stark of Winterfell." Horton and Anya made their own declarations of fealty as well, and after they did Ned held his hand up.

"I accept your oaths my lords, my lady," he said to them. "And I welcome your support. Now, let us go inside." Yohn followed Ned with Anya and Horton on either side of him. They were joined by the other lords, including Yohn's bannermen Lords Royce Coldwater and Uthor Tollet, and Ser Damon Shett. Once everyone was gathered in the great hall of Riverrun Ned turned to his good-brother Ser Edmure. The Tully heir stepped forward along with some servants who either held dishes with pieces of bread and a dish of salt or held a carafe full of water and a plate with small cups.

"My honoured guests," Ser Edmure began, "I welcome you in my walls and at my table. I extend my hospitality and offer my protection in light of the Seven." As Ser Edmure spoke the servants offered the bread and salt to the Vale lords. Yohn took a piece of bread and dipped it into the dish of salt before putting it into his mouth and eating it, then he took a cup of water and drank. All of the other lords from the Vale did the same, as did the lords from the Riverlands and the North. Even though they were all allies here the custom of guest right was still to be observed.

"I thank you for your hospitality Ser Edmure," Yohn spoke after he finished his drink and returned the cup. He sat down just across from Ned as he also sat down with Catelyn and his daughters beside him. It was then that Yohn noticed some Dornishmen lingering nearby. "The Dornish offer to fight for you as well your grace?" he asked him, somewhat surprised. Ned looked over to the Dornishmen before looking back, his face as grim and stern as ever.

"Robb sent word to many strongholds including Sunspear after his victory over Tywin Lannister," Ned answered. "To the Dornish he offered them the head of Princess Elia's murderer as well as the killer of her daughter Princess Rhaenys." Yohn nodded his head at that. _Smart lad that Robb_ , he thought. "As such we have reached an agreement with House Martell, and Prince Oberyn will send word to his brother Prince Doran to ask for Dornish spear-men. Now we just have to worry about ending this war." Yohn bowed to Ned and helped himself to a plate of fruit that was placed on the table between them.

"Ned, I am sorry about not being there to help you when you were falsely imprisoned," he told him. "I should have helped you somehow, even though I probably would've been of little help..."

"Nonsense Yohn," Ned interrupted. "You only had Andar and Robar with you as well as a small guard detail. I don't resent you for not being there. Truth be told I probably should've trusted others to help me remove Joffrey from the throne."

"So part of that is true then?" Anya spoke up in a stern voice. "You planned to remove Joffrey and his siblings?"

"And give the Iron Throne to Stannis," Ned added, his voice just as stern. "That was my intention Lady Waynwood. Although if I knew then what I know now about Stannis..." Ned left that hanging unfinished. After a moment he leant back in his seat. "Still, our paths are set. There's no point in looking back on what could have been. We need to focus on what lays ahead of us. With Tywin and his sons held in Riverrun's dungeons Cersei cannot retaliate against us. The Westerlands are still a threat that need dealing with, and Cersei has to worry about both Stannis and Renly. I have sent Robb ahead with a small force to scout the borders and see if he can find a path that can allow us to bypass the Golden Tooth. Meanwhile we will march out in a week's time at the latest. If Robb finds a way in I'll send more men to aid him and deal with the host that Tywin's cousin Stafford is trying to train up before laying siege to the Golden Tooth from both west and east. Then I'll march throughout the Westerlands and force the lords there to yield." Yohn smiled at Ned's thinking. _Ever the general Ned_ , he thought with a smirk.

"Your grace, if you wish it my men will be honoured to assist you in this task," Ser Damon Shett spoke, an eagerness present in his voice. Ned chuckled at Damon's enthusiasm as he held his hand up.

"It is my hope that the sight of two hosts approaching from either side will force Lady Lefford to yield," he said. "We'll need what men we have to deal with Lannisport and then Casterly Rock, so the less battles before then the better." Yohn was surprised at this from Ned.

"You intend to take the Lannisters home from them?" he asked, his shock evident.

"Aye Yohn, that is what I plan," Ned responded. "I will not leave the Lannisters in a strong position of power after we are done with this war. At the very least I aim to weaken them enough so they cannot threaten us for a long time." Ned took a drink from his cup before setting it down and looking back at Yohn. "Perhaps I'll let them have it back after we've taken much of their wealth and distributed it across the Northern Kingdoms, which will include the Vale as well. Although the Riverlands will get the priority for recompense." Yohn nodded his head in understanding.

"The Riverlands suffered from this war first, so it is only fair to give them more gold to pay for more food from the likes of the Reach," he said. A logical move on Ned's part, and a good way of further humbling the Lannisters. Also it is the only reason Ned would have for plundering a castle; of all the reasons he could have personal gain is not one of them.

"Indeed Yohn," Ned replied. "I intend to sack the castles and mines of the Westerlands, but I won't put the small folk into the unpleasant situation of not having anything to survive come winter, so I'll be very careful with what we take."

"You could always bring the Westerlands under your dominion your grace," Horton suggested then. Ned looked at the Lord of Redfort and shook his head.

"The Northern Kingdoms will comprise of the North and the Riverlands, and the Vale as well if you all accept," he answered. "The Westerlands will remain under the control of the Iron Throne." Yohn shifted in his seat and clasped his hands together in front of him, looking at Ned with a serious look on his face.

"Ned, I feel that I need to bring up a very important matter with you," Yohn said uneasily. Ned looked at him and nodded his head, urging him to continue. "Lady Lysa has refused to lend aid to the Riverlands, as you already know. Some of the Vale lords have not bothered to summon their banners while Ser Lyn Corbray makes foolish challenges and declares all of us who have joined you oathbreakers, while Lady Lysa sits in the Eyrie with our young Lord Robert, coddling him and treating him like he is still a babe at her teat."

"Lord Royce!" Anya hissed in a scandalised tone.

"I beg your pardon Lady Waynwood, but it is sadly true," Yohn said in response.

"I have to agree with Lord Royce Lady Waynwood," Catelyn spoke up then. "When you and I were recently at the Eyrie when I took Lord Tyrion there Lysa was not seeing reason, claiming that the knights of the Vale should remain in the Vale to protect her son. I even witnessed her feeding little Robert from her breast. A six year old boy still at his mother's breast? It pains me to say it, but I fear that he may not be fit to rule unless he is taken from Lysa." Yohn looked at her and bowed his head, confused by what he had heard. _To protect our lord? That's not what Lady Lysa has told me_ , he thought.

"Forgive me my Queen but we have been under the impression that Lady Lysa simply refused to get involved with this war not out of fear for her son but because, as one of her letters to me said, this war had nothing to do with the Vale whatsoever, and there was nothing to worry about," he told her. Catelyn looked astonished at Yohn's words.

"What?" she said disbelievingly, but upon looking at Yohn she seemed to realise that he spoke truly. "What in the Seven hells does my sister think she is playing at?" Yohn felt a little bit uncomfortable in telling her that, but he knew that he had to tell her. Looking at Horton and Anya who both nodded their heads to him, Yohn then went on to explain that Lady Arryn had denied her lords permission to take battle to the Lannisters even as her own childhood home was threatened. Yohn told Catelyn that her sister would send the lords and knights away with no more than an order to stand down, always telling them that this war would not involve the Vale so long as the Vale did not get involved, and that the Lannisters were not in the wrong here; those last words in particular shocked both Catelyn and Ned.

"Lord Royce," Ned spoke with a stern tone. "It was my good-sister who sent word to my wife that the Lannisters were responsible for the death of Jon Arryn. Furthermore as Catelyn told me and Lady Waynwood can attest to Lord Tyrion was accused of Jon's murder by Lysa, so that doesn't make any sense to me at all."

"I know your grace, but that is what Lady Lysa said to me the last time I confronted her," Yohn told him. "I think it's safe to say that we need to remove Lysa Arryn from the Eyrie and send young Robert to foster. I would suggest Winterfell as he is your nephew, but some others may prefer him to remain in the Vale." Ned looked to his wife who had a look of discomfort on her face.

"My nephew's birthright won't be in jeopardy will it?" she asked fearfully. Yohn shook his head while Anya answered.

"As long as he remains alive young Lord Robert's claim won't be removed from him," she said. "If anything were to happen then we would need to look for a new Lord of the Eyrie, but as it happens one of my own bannermen has a claim. Young Harrold Hardyng is a grandson of Jon's sister Alys, who married my Uncle Elys. If the worst should come to pass then Harrold would assume the name of Arryn and become the next Lord of the Eyrie."

"Of course that will not happen if we can help it," Horton cut in then. Yohn looked to him and saw the uncomfortable look in his eyes as he looked at Anya before he looked back at Catelyn, who looked uneasy at discussing the possibility of her nephew dying. "Personally I'd rather keep Lord Robert in the Vale myself, but we can discuss such after we have secured him. But as Lady Waynwood has already said my Queen your nephew's claim will not be taken from him."

"In any event, we would need to act soon your grace," Yohn cut in then. "I fear for the future of House Arryn, and would rather we deal with this as soon as we can. Lady Lysa won't hear reason from us, but she might if both of you were to approach her." Ned looked at Yohn then with discomfort in his eyes, shifting in his seat.

"Are you asking me to confront my good-sister in her home, talk sense into her and seize her and her son if she won't listen my lord?" he asked in that cold tone of his when he is annoyed. Yohn knew that he was treading on thin ice at the moment, but he needed to resolve what was going on in his homeland. Ned knew the Eyrie as well as any Arryn did, and he knew the mindset of the kind of people who served there, be they knights or maids or kitchen workers. Catelyn was Lady Arryn's elder sister, and she has already seen what her sister has become. If both of them go to the Eyrie and face Lady Arryn together then the matter will be resolved more quickly and with no harm befalling anyone.

"I am afraid that is exactly what I am asking your grace," Yohn answered. "My Queen, she is your sister and despite her refusal to help thus far she would never harm you even if she disagrees with you. My King, you will know some of the knights and servants who still serve at the Eyrie and they would remember you most fondly I should think." At that Ned gave a small smile.

"Not all of them may remember me fondly, given some of the pranks me and Robert used to pull on one or twelve of them," he said as he sat back in his seat. "This changes my initial plans, but I cannot deviate from the plan to march to the Golden Tooth. I shall send those men out under the command of Lord Mallister once he returns in the next couple of days. Then I shall ride with you to the Eyrie Yohn." Yohn nodded his head in thanks. "You and Lady Anya will ride with me and a few hundred men, a mix of your own and mine as well. We will speak to Lysa and get her to see reason, or remove her if we have no other choice. If that happens then we'll discuss where to foster Lord Robert after, not before." Yohn breathed out a sigh of relief, thankful that Ned would deal with this now instead of later.

With the matter of the Eyrie discussed all talk moved onto other matters, some of great importance and others nothing more than topics of general discussion. Yohn learned of Lord Hoster's poor health and offered his condolences to Catelyn, with Anya telling her that she would pray for her father. He also learned of the death of Lord Bolton, who had been injured by the Kingslayer during the battle of the camps many weeks ago. Horton asked about Lord Bolton's heir, and Ned looked at him with wide eyes.

"You do not know Lord Redfort?" he had asked. When Horton shook his head Ned answered him, his voice solemn. "Young Domeric Bolton died nearly a year ago now. Something to do with a bad belly." Horton was shocked by this news, and it took Yohn a few moments to remember that he had fostered Domeric Bolton at the Redfort for a few years. After a few hours some servants showed the lords from the Vale where their guest chambers would be located. Yohn and his son Andar were shown their rooms and both settled in. Yohn sat down and sighed, hoping that the next few weeks would not be too arduous. _Of course they'll be arduous Yohn, we're at war_ , he reminded himself. He lay down and tried to get some sleep, but a noise outside in the courtyard drew his attention. He stood up from the bed and wandered over to his window, opening it slightly and peering out. He saw Ned's youngest daughter training with a wooden sword, moving around as if performing some dance from another land. _How odd_ , he thought as he watched the girl spin on her heel and lunge the wooden sword forward before retracting her sword arm and waving the blade about. _Does Ned know about this_? After a few more minutes he decided to ignore the girl and close his window shut. He lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes, before finally falling to sleep.

* * *

Robb

The mountains to the west were coming in sight, and Robb was grateful for seeing them. It had been nearly a week since he rode out with Lords Karstark and Umber, along with a host of four-thousand men. _If we come across Oxcross I'll be needing more men than this_ , he thought. He was not bitter about the situation; he was if anything glad that his father was back and taking charge of the war. It lifted the weight from his shoulders to know that his father was running things again. At the same time he was thankful that he was still being allowed to fight instead of being sent back to Winterfell which at one point he was certain his father would do. _Why did I feel so certain of that_? he had thought. _I have fought beside my father's bannermen, there would be no point in sending me back and father would know that. Why did I think that that would've happened_? Now though he was riding for the mountains that bordered the Riverlands and the Westerlands.

Robb and Grey Wind rode ahead with a dozen men, which included Smalljon and Harrion. They made their way towards the mountains, keeping an eye open for any Lannister scouts. It has been quiet for some time now, but Robb was still expecting trouble from them. He was confident about having an easy victory over Stafford Lannister though; his great-uncle Ser Brynden mentioned that Stafford's capabilities as a battle commander were very poor, which would work in their favour. As they rode Robb turned to Smalljon, who was looking all around them.

"You're not nervous now Smalljon, are you?" he teased his friend. The Umber heir laughed at him.

"Never Robb, just keeping my eyes open," Smalljon answered. "Can't rely on me father to look out for a possible ambush. Just don't tell him I said that." Harrion chuckled along with Robb.

"You think your father's bad just look at mine," he said. "I'm glad we were far away from Tywin Lannister's host at the Humbling, otherwise my father would've alerted them just with his breathing."

"Come on Harrion, it's not father's fault he's a shit hunter," Torrhen spoke up then. The second son of Lord Rickard had joined their group earlier that day after his father sent him to pass along a message about a small group of surviving Lannister men that they had caught. It was because of that group that Robb and his companions were staying alert.

"What does it matter Torr?" Harrion said. "He doesn't know the finer points of being subtle, unless it's to do with arranging marriages for our family."

"Even then father's not that subtle," Torrhen replied. Robb rolled his eyes at the Karstark brothers bickering.

"Ladies please if you're quite finished," Smalljon said, earning glares from both men. Lucas Blackwood quietly chuckled at their antics as he caught up with Robb. The younger brother of Lord Brynden Blackwood had dark hair and a clean-shaven face, and seemed to be a quiet sort of person. He was however quite good with a sword, but not as good with a bow as his elder brother.

"Do you think we'll come across any Lannister scum Robb?" Lucas asked. The one thing Robb loved about his little group was that they all dispensed with formalities when it was just them. Being forever addressed as 'my prince' always annoyed him, even when Jon did it. _I hope he's doing more than just training men_ , he thought.

"I doubt we'll see anymore before we get to the Golden Tooth," was all he said before Grey Wind snarled lowly. Robb looked in the direction that Grey Wind was snarling at and narrowed his eyes. "I think I might have spoken too soon."

Robb sent three men to inform the other nearby groups and bring them to him while he sent Torrhen and Lucas ahead. He only had to wait for half an hour before he saw his reinforcements arrive, roughly two-hundred men, before Torrhen and Lucas returned. They told him that there was a group of about forty Westermen about two miles ahead, just past the rise of the hill they were about to go over. Robb gave the order for his men to dismount and make their way on foot to keep quiet. It took them all more than half an hour to get to the small camp, and Robb could see that they were battered survivors from the numerous skirmishes that have taken place since the Humbling. He looked around at his men and had them spread out to charge out from three directions. He looked back at his few archers and ordered them to pick off any Westermen they saw running for what few horses they had. Drawing his longsword out slowly Robb looked at Grey Wind and nodded his head to him. His direwolf quietly trotted over to the Westermen, sneaking up to them before pouncing on one lone sentry a few minutes later.

When Grey Wind tore out that sentry's throat Robb gave the signal and he charged down the hill along with his men. He heard arrows flying overhead and watched several Westermen drop as the arrows hit them. When he made contact with his foes he thrust his sword forward into the belly of one who was too slow to bring his shield up properly. As he drew the blade out another man rushed at him, swinging his sword in a bid to remove his head. Robb brought his sword up to block the blow and when their blades connected he swung to the left with as much strength as he could manage, sending his opponent staggering to the left. Robb slashed his sword into the man's neck and pulled it back, slicing his neck open. One more Westerman ran up to Robb with a pike in his hands, thrusting at him while screaming like a fool. Robb simply stepped to the side and swung his sword down onto the haft of the pike, breaking the head off. The Westerman looked shocked at what happened and threw his haft to the ground before dropping onto his knees.

"Mercy, I yield!" he yelled out in panic. Robb glared at the man, holding his sword against his throat. He felt a primal urge to kill this man there and then, but he held himself back. _Slaughter him and you're no better than the Lannisters_ , a voice in his head told him. Robb lowered his weapon and stared at him.

"Be thankful that I know mercy," he told him before stalking off. As he looked around Robb saw the Westermen who survived had dropped their weapons and were surrendering, making him chuckle darkly. _How many of these men would've been merciful to the small folk I wonder_? he thought to himself.

The little skirmish had only lasted for a minute, and it was over very quickly. Only about seventeen Westermen had been killed while the rest just dropped their weapons and surrendered. A couple of his men were injured but none seriously, and Robb was pleased with that. As his men rounded up their prisoners Robb moved through the tents of the little camp and met up with Harrion.

"Not as exciting as I'd hoped for," he said. "I was looking forward to a good fight."

"There'll be plenty of opportunity for fighting Harrion," Robb told him. As they walked the sound of horses trotting grew louder, and Robb looked back at the hill from where his men had charged from. A moment later he saw more of his men riding towards him with Greatjon at their head. A few minutes had passed before Greatjon and Lord Rickard Karstark were standing before Robb.

"Any of ours dead?" Greatjon asked.

"None," Robb answered. "The Westermen stood no chance and surrendered without much of a fight. A few foolhardy men-at-arms and a couple of knights were all who stood with steel in their hands, but once they were dealt with the rest saw sense and pleaded for mercy." Lord Karstark grumbled at that.

"It'd be safer to kill them all my prince," he said. Robb shook his head in answer.

"My father's instructions were clear my lord. If any man-at-arms surrenders then we are to accept and take them prisoner, not murder them. I'm sure you already know my father's stance on the killing of prisoners?" Lord Karstark looked put off by that.

"Aye my prince," he began but was cut off when Grey Wind came running up, barking away as he approached. The direwolf stopped by him and gave a soft whine before taking off towards the mountains, stopping to look back at Robb and bark at him.

"I think Grey Wind's found something," Smalljon said as he wandered over to them. Robb smirked as he began to follow his direwolf.

"Go on boy, show us what you've found," Robb urged him. The beast gave a little bark and trotted off, leading Robb and his companions through the camp. As they walked Robb was joined by his Frey squire, Olyvar. The man who was not much older than Robb has been a good and dutiful squire, just as his elder brother Lord Stevron promised. He was wearing a simple shirt of chainmail with studded leather for armour and an iron half-helm, with a longsword sheathed at his side.

"My prince?" Olyvar called out to him with a confused look in his eyes.

"Just follow us lad," Greatjon replied. For a few minutes Grey Wind led the group through the camp and beyond to a small gathering of trees that stood between Robb and the mountains behind. Robb turned to Olyvar and waved him over.

"Get a couple of dozen men to join us Olyvar," he commanded. They stood and waited for only ten minutes, with Grey Wind pacing in front of the woods. When the additional men had gathered Robb led them into the woods, his sword drawn just in case. Grey Wind led the way, his snout down to the ground. For twenty minutes they followed the direwolf as he walked around the trees, leading the group deeper into the woods, until finally they came to the other side and saw a narrow path winding up the side of the mountain that stood in front of them.

"Well then Robb, what are the odds that this path can lead us straight into the Westerlands?" Harrion asked. Robb hummed in response and walked up to Grey Wind who had sat on his haunches when they arrived.

"Good boy Grey Wind," he said quietly as he scratched him behind the ear. "Let's hope this gets us past the Golden Tooth." He turned around and faced Lords Umber and Karstark. "Get a group of men to scout this path to make sure it'll lead us where we want to go," he ordered. "Once they come back we will begin to march along it if it indeed takes us into the Westerlands, and then we can send word to my father's host and request more men."

"Will do my prince," Greatjon said.

With his orders given Robb made his way back to the camp with Harrion, Smalljon and Olyvar following him. As they entered the camp a Blackwood man-at-arms approached him.

"My prince, we have secured the prisoners as per your orders," he told him. Robb thanked the man and ordered him to make sure that they were fed. He knew that some of the men would grumble at that but he would not compromise his honour; they had surrendered and so should be treated fairly, not made to feel as if they were less than dirt. _Some of them may be less than dirt, but that matters not for now_. Robb walked over to where their horses had been brought to and approached his warhorse, checking to make sure that it was well and feeding him a slice from the apple that he had taken from his saddlebag and cut up.

"So, a small band of battered Lannister men beaten and taken prisoner, a possible path that'll lead us into enemy territory without needing to go through the Golden Tooth, and all that done before dinner," Smalljon said. "All we need is a couple of camp followers and we're all good." Harrion laughed at Smalljon as he pulled out a water skin from the saddlebag of his horse.

"Not much pleases you more than a quick fuck, does it Smalljon?" he said with a grin. Robb watched as his friend looked at the Karstark heir with an annoyed look.

"A decent fuck Harrion, not a quick fuck," he said. "There is a difference you know. Or do you know?" Harrion snorted at that.

"Oh please Jon," he replied. "I might not be a married man, but I know the pleasures of the flesh well enough." Smalljon chortled at that.

"Who said anything about marriage?" he said as Harrion drank from his water skin. "Don't need to be married to enjoy getting between a lovely lady's thighs, and it's even better if her cunt's dripping wet before you sheath your cock in her." Harrion snorted as he passed his drink to Smalljon.

"Do you think about anything apart from putting your manhood into some woman's sheath?" he asked. Smalljon grinned wide before he responded.

"Putting it into her mouth and having her suck me dry," he answered. Robb burst out laughing along with Harrion as Smalljon took a large swig. "Could you not have brought some other drink instead of water Harrion?" he demanded as he passed the drink to Robb.

"No. I save my ale and mead for when I'm under a roof, not out in the country." Robb took a long drink of water before he passed the water skin to Olyvar, who was looking awkward at the conversation between the two heirs.

"Don't mind them," he told his squire. "This is quite civilised for them." Olyvar took the drink and had a small swig before passing it back to Harrion.

"If you say so my prince," Olyvar said. Robb frowned at him, shaking his head. _No matter how many times I tell him he'll never stop calling me my prince_.

The four of them gathered by a camp fire that Torrhen and Lucas had got started. They sat down and were joined by Greatjon and Lord Rickard, and they all helped themselves to the food that they had recently 'acquired' from their prisoners. The eight of them began to eat the food, which was a mix of venison, beef and various vegetables all put into a stew pot. Robb chucked a few large pieces of meat to Grey Wind who scoffed the food happily as he lay down beside Robb. The group spoke as they ate, all reminiscing about what they had gotten up to before this war broke out.

"Me and the wife were busy... trying to expand on our family," Greatjon said, earning an eye roll from Smalljon as he washed his food down with a cup of ale. "I'm not quite sure who works harder at that, but..."

"Oh for fucks sake father, do you mind?" Smalljon interrupted. Greatjon looked at his son and chuckled.

"You're always going on about having women lad, and you never normally complain when I talk about having women," Greatjon said with a laugh.

"That's because you never usually talk about it when it's me ma involved," Smalljon responded. Robb and the others chuckled along before they looked at Lucas.

"Well, not been up to much myself," he said as he shuffled in his seat. "I've spent most of my time just helping my father and brother with running Raventree. Right before the hostilities started I was on a hunt with Brynden, carrying whatever he shot down with his bow seeing as I can't hit much with a bow to save my life." The others laughed at that as Lucas put a piece of stewed meat in his mouth and chewed. "I've always preferred fighting with a sword instead of anything else," he said after he finished chewing.

"You sound just like Jon," Robb said. The group looked at him as he put a spoonful of the stew into his mouth and chewed on it. Once he swallowed it down and had a quick swig of his ale he began to talk a bit more of what he has been doing before this war. "Well, as most of you know I've just been running Winterfell while my father was serving as King Robert's Hand. What little time I've had to myself I've spent learning more about being Lord of Winterfell or training in the tiltyard back home. I've had a few moments where I've had some fun, or rather tried to." Robb snorted as he remembered taking Bran out for a ride through the Wolfswood.

"Any fun with women at all Robb?" Smalljon asked him. Robb looked at him and sighed.

"Most I've ever done is kiss them, and that's that," he said firmly. Smalljon smirked widely at that and opened his mouth to ask another question, but a kick in his leg from his father silenced him. Harrion however did not hold back.

"Still not got between a woman's thighs?" he asked with a grin as he leaned back and folded his arms.

"Ease up son," Lord Rickard said. "Not every man wishes to bed a woman outside of marriage." Torrhen stood up and stretched his limbs as he spoke.

"Most of us would like to know what we should be doing before we wed our prospective brides," he said. Robb chuckled lightly as he brought his ale up to his mouth.

"Well, I'd like to save myself for marriage if I can," he told them. Lucas raised his cup up to him as he drank his ale.

"That seems fair enough to me," he said. "My brother won't bed until he is wed." He took another swig before he added, "Or so he says anyway." Everyone looked at Lucas then.

"Or so he says?" Greatjon repeated. Robb noticed the look of mischief in Lucas's eyes.

"Well let's just say that my brother has been seen with one of the many daughters of Lord Twatus Bracken," he said. "Brynden claims that he hasn't bedded her at all, but who can say. I wouldn't be surprised if he gets her with a bastard." Robb was surprised at that.

"I'd have thought your brother would avoid anyone named Bracken?" he said.

"He avoids Lord Twatus, but he gets on quite well with one of his girls. Only reason he won't marry her is because father demanded that he not wed any of them at all."

"You really don't like Lord Bracken do you Lucas?" Olyvar spoke up then, nearly startling Robb as he had forgotten about his squire. Lucas looked over at the Frey and smirked.

"He's a Bracken, of course I don't like him," he said as he took a drink from his cup. Robb was quite surprised at the venom with which Lucas was speaking with in regards to Lord Bracken. "Brackens are a bunch of bloody turncloaks. It was a Bracken who captured Agnes Blackwood and gave her to Harwyn Hoare years before the Targaryen conquest. It was the Brackens who poisoned our heart tree. It was..."

"Peace Lucas," Robb cut in then, and the young Blackwood calmed down. _Just when I thought he was a quiet fellow as well_.

"Sorry Robb," he said. "I think I've had enough ale this night." Greatjon laughed at that.

"We've all gone a little bit overboard lad," he told him as he held up his hand that was minus a couple of fingers. "This is what I got when I went too far with challenging young Prince Robb here a few months back. Went for me blade without thinking and the next moment that direwolf of his lunges at me and takes two of my fingers, and then he eats them. Eats them!" Robb chuckled along with the others as he remembered that day in the great hall of Winterfell. "I won't be doing that again any time soon."

The conversation drifted along steadily until they all felt tired enough to settle down for the night. Robb wandered to a tent with Grey Wind and Olyvar with him. He sent his squire off to find his own tent and to raise him at sunrise if he did not get up himself before then. Robb settled down and slept through the night before rising the next morning and going about expanding the camp. For the next few days his host organised their position and set up more tents closer to the woods, keeping a regular patrol within the woods and around the camp perimeter to watch out for any trouble that could be heading their way. Six days after sending his scouts along the path they returned with news that he was very grateful to receive.

"The path leads to a village my prince," the chief scout said. Robb was sat in a tent with Greatjon and Lord Rickard sat on either side of him. "There was a large host assembling there, at least ten-thousand if not more." Robb nodded his head.

"That sounds like Oxcross," he spoke aloud. "How far away was the village from the path?" The scout straightened his back.

"About a mile and a half, with plenty cover in the form o' trees," he answered. Robb sat back in his seat.

"We will need more men for this attack my prince," Lord Rickard said. "At least another four-thousand if not more."

"I agree Lord Karstark," Robb answered.

"My prince, if it pleases?" the scout asked. Robb nodded to him to let him speak. "While we were there we noticed that Ser Stafford has not placed sentries at all. I sent some men around the host's camp, and they have not put up a single sentry. Also, they have gathered their horses in the same spot, closest to the trees where we would come out from." Robb smirked briefly at that. _So Stafford Lannister is indeed very incompetent. That's good for me_ , he thought.

"That will prove to be his doom," Robb said as he rose from his seat. "Lord Karstark, send word to my father's host and ask for our reinforcements. Once they arrive we will march along the path and gather our strength, then launch our attack during the night time." Lord Rickard bowed to Robb.

"I'll send the messenger immediately my prince," he said before walking off. Robb turned to face the scout again.

"Rest up today, then on the morrow I want you and your scouts to go back and keep watch until we arrive to attack them," he told the man.

"Yes my prince, many thanks," the man said before walking off as well.

"We going to have quite the fight this time?" Greatjon asked. Robb smiled at him as he leaned against the table.

"Let's hope so my lord," Robb replied. "I would prefer a decent scrap compared to what we had nearly a week ago." The two of them left the tent to go about their other duties. As he walked Robb whistled Grey Wind over, who came belting down from the tents further up ahead. "Good boy Grey Wind," he said as he petted his direwolf. "Thanks to you we should be able to take the Lannisters by complete surprise." Grey Wind looked up at him and barked happily, following him as he wandered along the camp. _Now we just have to wait until the rest of the men arrive. When we attack them in the dead of night they'll think that the Others themselves have fallen upon them_.

* * *

Petyr

Petyr cursed his foul luck. Ever since the Spider disappeared he has had one problem after another. His agents disappearing all of a sudden, his ledgers vanishing from their hiding places (which led to him having several of the whores in his employ tortured and then killed), and his quarters being ransacked. It all came to a head however when Cersei revealed a letter supposedly discovered by her cousin Lancel that proved his involvement in old Jon Arryn's death, as well as Lancel proclaiming that he and his men had found evidence of loans being made without the consent of the crown. _That would explain why my quarters were in the mess that they were in_ , he thought. After his public shaming Joffrey ordered him to be taken to the black cells to be dealt with in a couple of days time. Fortunately for Petyr his man Lothor Brune had arrived before they took him into the black cells and killed the two Gold Cloaks who were escorting him. He made his escape with Lothor and several other loyal men and boarded his ship, ordering the crew to get him away from the city. He briefly toyed with the idea of assassinating Joffrey, but then decided against it. _It'll be better if his 'Uncle' Stannis has him tied to a pyre and burned to ashes, and Stannis will easily take the capital. I just hope my letter to Lord Tyrell has arrived in Highgarden. Once poor Renly is dealt with Stannis will have most of the Stormlords support him while the Reach deal with Mace for his 'betrayal' just long enough for Stannis to take the throne. Once they realise my letter was a ruse it'll be too late for them_.

After the Spider disappeared along with Eddard Stark and his eldest daughter Sansa, Petyr had had to put a new plan into motion to ensure chaos would consume the realm. Sending a letter to cause concern in Highgarden, along with a second letter to be put onto Mace's person without his knowing at the most opportune moment, all Petyr needed to do was send a man to deal with Renly. He would have hired a Faceless Man for that task but he was short on time, so he had sent one of his agents to organise Renly's death. All he had to do now was figure out how to deal with the Starks. He could have Robb Stark killed, but Cat would hate him for that if it ever came to light so he would not risk that. He knew he would need to find some way to locate Eddard Stark and kill him before he could reunite with his family but that was going to be hard enough even with a few agents to spare, and right now he could not spare a single man.

The ship he was on right now was currently sailing away to the Fingers where his family's seat, a lone unnamed tower, was located. He had thought about stopping off at Gulltown, but while they were sailing past another ship Petyr had heard that many of the Vale lords had marched out to join the Starks. _This is just getting better_ , he fumed. With the Vale divided as it was he could not risk riding from Gulltown to his tower. When the ship stopped at Gulltown he sent a messenger to ride through the Vale and deliver a letter to Ser Lyn Corbray to meet with him at his tower to discuss their next move. He also sent a message to the Eyrie to inform Lysa of his return to the Vale and telling her to stay with her son. Petyr had wanted to wait before telling her anything, but he knew that she would panic if Cersei sent a letter informing her that the truth of Jon Arryn's death was now known in the capitol. He told her to dismiss any letter from the Lannisters as lies and that he would join her shortly. After having spent a day in Gulltown the ship left the harbour and sailed north for White Harbour, with the captain promising to stop at the Fingers along the way. Petyr was stood on the deck, taking in the sea air as the little dot on the land that was his place of birth came closer into view.

"Lord Baelish," Lothor Brune spoke up. "We are almost ready to depart this ship."

"Excellent Lothor," he answered. "Once we are at the tower have everyone prepared to receive Ser Lyn Corbray. I'll need to speak with him quietly to discuss how we are going forward with the... delicate, situation that we are faced with."

"Will do my lord," the man said, giving Petyr a bow before he turned and marched off. Petyr continued to watch the tower as the ship sailed closer. After an hour the captain approached him.

"Lord Baelish, we're ready ta drop ye off now," he said. "This is as close as I dare sail to the Fingers. Any closer an' we may as well swim the rest o' the way t' White Harbour." Petyr faced the man and smiled at him.

"Of course my friend," he answered. "I thank you for getting me this far. Once I can get myself organised properly I'll see to it that a proper reward is sent your way. Do bear in mind that it may take some time for said reward to reach you." The captain nodded his head. With that Petyr walked over to the port side of the ship and climbed down into the row boat that would take him and Lothor to the shore. Barely ten minutes later and Petyr was stepping onto dry land.

The walk up to the entrance of his tower took Petyr and Lothor twenty minutes, but thankfully no one was stopping him every minute as he had feared they would try and do. As he approached he noticed that the nearby village was busy with the small folk going about their daily chores. There was also a few horses with men who had the Corbray's sigil of three black ravens holding red hearts on white upon their shields. At their head was Ser Lyn, who spotted Petyr and rode over to him. Petyr stood up straight as Ser Lyn came closer, giving the knight a broad smile despite being annoyed that he had arrived earlier than Petyr had hoped.

"Ser Lyn, a pleasure to receive you," he said to him as he dismounted his horse.

"Lord Baelish," Ser Lyn replied with a bow. "I had heard of your troubles in the capitol. I do hope that Queen Cersei is just spouting nonsense." Petyr smiled at the knight as he clasped his hands before him.

"It seems that someone hates me enough to frame me for Lord Arryn's demise," he lied. "Perhaps it was indeed Cersei lying to deflect blame from herself, as I personally suspect that she is behind it." Ser Lyn raised an eyebrow at Petyr's words.

"Apparently my lord it was Lord Tyrion who was responsible," he responded. "I was at the Eyrie when Lady Stark arrived with the Imp and Lady Arryn put him on trial for Lord Arryn's murder. Of course the Lannister shit declared a trial by combat and Lady Arryn chose Ser Vardis Egen over me. I would've dealt with the Imp's champion, a common sellsword, and then he would've been executed. But no, Lady Arryn chose Egen instead of me." Petyr could tell that Ser Lyn was simmering at this, and it amused him greatly.

"Regardless Ser Lyn, it matters not at the moment. Shall we?" Petyr led them into the tower and upon entry nodded to Lothor, who bowed his head and clicked his fingers at the staff waiting for orders. Petyr watched as his staff scurried about trying to get work done for properly receiving guests. "Would you like a drop of wine ser?" he asked the knight. Ser Lyn looked at him with a frown and shrugged his shoulders.

"Why not?" he answered. Petyr smiled at that.

"I have a suitable vintage in my room, but it'll take me a few minutes to find it," he told him. "In the mean time I'm sure Lothor here can accommodate your men here while we discuss this pressing matter about the Vale lords."

Petyr led Ser Lyn up into his personal rooms on the above level while Lothor dealt with the other guests. Once Petyr and Ser Lyn were in the room he walked over to the table and pulled out a chair before wandering over to the drink cabinet just across from his bed. After a couple of minutes of looking over the bottles Petyr found the one he was looking for and poured the liquid into two cups and walked over to Ser Lyn, giving him one of the cups before they both took a drink.

"So my friend, what has been going on in my absence?" Petyr asked. Ser Lyn looked at him and took a swig of his wine before he answered.

"As you already know my lord, most of the lords have declared for Stark, gathering their banners and marching off to war," he said. "Lady Arryn has told everyone to stay here but many are refusing to listen, especially since the Young Wolf took the Old Lion prisoner. They believe that the war is as good as won and just want to help the winning side end it quicker. I have challenged many to try and prevent them from leaving, but none seem willing to test their mettle against me. The cravens have chosen to ignore me it seems. Probably know I would beat them in a fair fight." Petyr smiled at Ser Lyn's grumblings.

"Of course that would be down to you not fighting fairly in a fair fight," he quipped. Ser Lyn looked outraged and got ready to shout at Petyr until he held his hand up. "I jape Ser Lyn," he said quickly. The knight snorted in disgust.

"Not a very funny jape I must say," he said, his face serious. "Anyway, Lady Forlorn here has not tasted blood in some time, and she grows as weary as I at having to wait for the chance." As he spoke Ser Lyn tapped the hilt of his family's ancestral Valyrian longsword as if petting a beloved pet.

"Still planning to usurp your brother?" Petyr said in a bid to redirect the conversation to where he wanted it. Ser Lyn looked at him and nodded his head slightly.

"Lyonel has not done much for our House in recent years, and he resents me for being given Lady Forlorn by our father after he died at the Trident," he responded. Petyr took a gentle swig of the wine and placed the cup back down on the table in front of him.

"To give Lord Lyonel his dues he has very little wealth to work with," Petyr said. Ser Lyn huffed in annoyance as he downed the rest of his cup. "Shall I refill?" he asked and the knight nodded. Petyr stood up and walked over to the drink cabinet with Ser Lyn's cup in hand. "Your House has been poor for quite a long time. Lord Lyonel has not yet remarried after his wife's death, and the only child he has had was that sickly little infant who died very young. He needs a lovely young wife from a rich family who can give him an heir, unless you are willing to take a wife yourself. Or do you still prefer to fuck young men?"

"You already know the answer to that my lord," Ser Lyn said. "Lyonel won't be of much use to you, he's too bloody cautious for his own good." Petyr smiled as he reached for a small bottle that was behind the larger bottle and turned it over slightly to drop a single crystal piece into the cup before quickly replacing it and pouring the wine from the other bottle.

"It's because he has no heir apart from you and Ser Lucas that Lord Lyonel is cautious," Petyr said with a smirk. "If he had a son to carry on the Corbray name then he would more than likely take more risks. Risks that would pay off for him and ultimately me. Plus your brother is more suitable for what I want at the moment. With the Starks doing well and most of the Vale supporting them I need a new plan and thus, a new partner." Petyr offered Ser Lyn the refilled cup which he all but snatched from Petyr's hand. "I need a planner who can assist me with closing off the Vale from the Riverlands while making sure that the other Vale Houses either support me or are trapped in their homes. Some sellswords from across the Narrow Sea will help with that." Ser Lyn scoffed in annoyance.

"Bloody useless they are," he hissed bringing his cup to his lips before putting the cup back down on the table. "You won't be able to secure the Vale of Arryn as quickly as you would like my lord. You might get the Graftons and Lady Arryn to support you but the rest will refuse you." Petyr smiled at him as he walked over to his own cup and picked it up.

"We'll see about that," he said raising the cup. "To Lady Arryn and Lord Robert," Petyr toasted before sipping his wine, watching as Ser Lyn drank his cup empty. He put the cup down with a cough and pointed at it.

"What is that wine?" he asked with another cough. Petyr smirked as he raised his cup while Ser Lyn coughed a third and fourth time.

"Just a cheap Dornish wine, laced with a lovely little piece of crystal filled with the strangler," Petyr answered as Ser Lyn coughed more, clutching at his throat. "It is a most unpleasant poison Ser Lyn, one that constricts the throat and stops a person from breathing." Ser Lyn tried to stand up from his seat but he fell to the floor gasping for breath that would not come. Petyr watched with a malicious smile as the knight writhed on the floor, blood pouring from his nose and eyes as his face turned purple from the blood vessels bursting. Ser Lyn made a horrible gasping noise before he finally stilled, his body falling limp. Petyr walked over to the man's lifeless body and emptied his wine over Ser Lyn's face. "That is what happens when you no longer serve a purpose and threaten my work good ser." Petyr placed his cup upside down on the table and did the same with the other cup before he stepped over Ser Lyn's body and left his room, walking down the stairs to find Lothor wiping his dagger clean of blood. Ser Lyn's companions all lay on the floor in pools of blood, their throats slashed open by Lothor and the men that he was able to gather to deal with them.

"It is done my lord," Lothor said. "Not a single one of them got a chance to defend themselves, not when being offered ale." Petyr smiled at his loyal man, nodding his head at the bodies.

"Ser Lyn has unfortunately choked on my wine and could not breathe at all, and as such he cannot come down to admire your handy work," he replied. Lothor shrugged his shoulders in response.

"A pity," was all he said. Petyr walked over to him, stepping around the bodies and looking at the servants who were coming in with scrubbing brushes and buckets of water to clean the mess.

"I would gift you with Lady Forlorn for your service, but it would look rather suspicious if you are seen carrying it," Petyr told him. "So for now we will have to wait for Captain Xallo to arrive with his prize." Lothor frowned at the mention of the Summer Islander pirate.

"Xallo is no better than a common thief with a ship and a crew of killers," he said. Petyr chuckled.

"Aren't all pirates the same?" he asked. "Still, the man has his uses, and I did pay him a rather large sum of dragons upfront to find a sword of Valyrian steel. As long as he is careful and doesn't get too cocky and attack every ship between here and wherever he is we should have that sword, among other valuables to barter with for convincing the sellswords to come over here and assist us with securing our borders." Lothor folded his arms as he walked with Petyr who led them outside to walk around the outside of the tower.

"And when the man arrives how much extra do you intend to pay him for such a service?" Lothor asked, his face serious. Petyr smirked as he faced him.

"My friend, I intend to let you deliver the payment yourself by way of the iron price, as the Ironborn would say," he told Lothor, who gave a grim smile of his own.

"It would be my pleasure Lord Baelish," he said.

* * *

Arya

Arya woke up to the sound of horses whinnying and hooves clattering in the courtyard outside. She looked up and cursed herself for leaving the window open overnight. She leapt out of the bed and made her way over to the window, pulling herself up and standing on the table beneath the window to look outside. Out in the courtyard she saw her father's men getting ready to march out to war; some men were going to march out with Lord Mallister and his son Ser Patrek to attack the Lannisters homeland while others would go with Arya's father and the Bronze Yohn to go to the Eyrie to get her aunt to help with the war and get the rest of the Vale to fight. Arya wanted to go with her father, especially as her mother was going with him, but they were both insistent that she stay put. Sansa was willing to stay in Riverrun, but Arya had wanted to go and see the Eyrie for herself. She remembers the stories her father told her of his time as Lord Jon Arryn's ward alongside King Robert, back before he became King. But her father had told her that she was safer here, and that he would not risk his daughters by taking them through land that was still under the threat of attack from the Vale Clansmen.

After spending a few minutes looking outside Arya stepped down from the table and made her way to the wardrobe where her clothes were. Her mother had insisted on her wearing those poxy dresses again but she would wear one for mother until she and father rode off. She picked the grey and blue dress that was relatively comfortable, frowning at the length of the skirt. _Why must girls be expected to wear these stupid garments? Why can't we wear breeches and shirts like boys do_? Arya slipped the dress on, annoyed at having to wear it; she may have promised her mother that she would see them off wearing one, but that did not mean that she would enjoy wearing it or keep it on afterwards. After putting the stupid dress on she took out a pair of brown breeches and a green tunic which she then put onto the chair before leaving her room. As she left she was nearly pushed down to the ground by Nymeria who bounded over to her and began sniffing her dress.

"Hello girl," Arya greeted her companion as she petted her. When she saw her in the courtyard that day she and Sansa arrived with their father and Jon she felt that her heart was about to burst with joy. She had felt terrible for throwing stones at her and sending her off, but if she did not do that then maybe Cersei would have had her killed instead of Lady. _Or she would have had them both killed_ , she thought sadly. She felt sad for Sansa's direwolf, and angry at Cersei. Until recently she had resented Sansa for not telling the truth about what happened at the river that day with Joffrey threatening Mycah, but now she was just angry with Joffrey and his mother. Over the last few weeks Arya and Sansa have gotten along more than they used to, being as close to each other as they were when they were still little children like Rickon. Sansa would never stop being the perfect lady though, but Arya did not mind now. After everything that has happened since their father's arrest Arya has put her resentment behind her.

As Arya was petting Nymeria she heard a little cough from the side. She turned her head and saw one of the Dornish women who had arrived with Prince Oberyn last week. Ever since they had arrived Arya has been interested in them, trying to get a chance to speak with one or both of them. Their father and half of his guards had left to return to Dorne to get his elder brother Prince Doran to organise support for the war in the Westerlands, while the two women who called themselves the Sand Snakes stayed behind.

"You have a very pretty wolf there," the woman said with a wide smile. She was the elder of the two women, the one who carried a spear. The younger was far prettier, but this one was clearly a warrior.

"Thank you," Arya answered rather timidly. She hated how she sounded when answering her. "I'm sorry but I have forgotten your name." The woman chuckled as she stepped closer to Arya, keeping her eyes on Nymeria.

"I am Obara," she told Arya. "My sister shares a name with your wolf." Arya smiled slightly as she looked back at Nymeria who was looking at Obara with her head tilted to one side. "Can I pet her?" the Dornishwoman asked. Arya was surprised by the request but she nodded her head quickly. Obara held her hand out to Nymeria who sniffed her hand before nudging her snout against her hand. Obara laughed as she stroked her fingers through the direwolf's fur, gently scratching behind her ears. "You wouldn't think she was capable of tearing your throat out when she is like this, would you?" she asked. Arya smiled widely as she watched her stroking Nymeria.

"She can be quite playful," Arya told her. "But she is more than capable of causing harm, as Joffrey could tell you if you ever get the chance to see him face to face." Obara raised her brow questioningly at Arya's words, so she elaborated. "I was playing with a boy named Mycah near the Ruby Ford when Joffrey approached with my sister, Sansa. Joffrey drew his sword and sliced Mycah's face so I struck him with the stick I had in my hands. He swung his sword at me trying to kill me, and when I tripped up and fell on my back he pointed his sword at me. Nymeria was not far off and she realised that I was in trouble, so she attacked Joffrey, biting into his arm and making him drop his sword. I picked it up and threw it into the river before running off." Arya had smiled briefly at the memory before the smile fell as she remembered what happened after; chasing Nymeria away to save her, Mycah being murdered by the Hound on Joffrey's orders, Sansa withholding the truth on what happened, and then father having to kill Lady to spare her from suffering at Cersei's command. She got lost in her thoughts before Obara prodded her arm.

"You okay?" she asked. Arya shook her head and before she knew it she told Obara of everything else that happened on that day and the days after. After she had finished speaking Arya looked back at Nymeria who was looking up at her with what appeared to be a sad look. After a moment Obara spoke again. "Why have you named your wolf Nymeria?" she asked. Nymeria looked up at Obara upon hearing her name, making Arya smile.

"Because it's a good name, and I like the story of Princess Nymeria and her ten thousand ships," she answered with a smile as she thought back to what she knew of that time. "She brought her fellow Rhoynar from Essos as they fled the Valyrians after they conquered the Rhoyne with their dragons." Obara laughed as Arya continued to speak about Princess Nymeria and her people. When she was done Obara smiled widely at her.

"You are well versed in the story of my Rhoynar ancestor," she said. Arya nodded her head.

"I've always preferred stories of warrior women like Nymeria and Queen Visenya, Aegon the Conqueror's wife," Arya replied, making Obara chuckle.

"I'm surprised that a Stark of all people would want to know anything about the Targaryens, given what King Aerys did to your uncle and grandfather," Obara said.

"That was one Targaryen, who was a mad fool who wanted to burn everyone," Arya answered back, a bit too harshly than she intended to. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you."

"Don't worry girl," Obara said. "I'm always being accused of lacking tact myself, so don't worry." Arya smirked at that, deciding that she liked Obara.

"Anyway, I'm about to go down to have some food. Would you like to come with me?" The Dornishwoman frowned at her before responding.

"Are you sure you want to be seen with a bastard, princess?" she asked in a teasing manner.

"I spend a lot of time with my brother, Jon, who is also a bastard," Arya answered, nearly hesitating at referring to Jon as a brother. She has gotten used to the fact that Jon is her cousin instead of being her brother, but she was still trying to remember to call him brother when in front of those who are not family. _Remember what father said_ , she reminded herself. "I'm sure it won't kill me to associate myself with another bastard." Obara smiled at that and the two of them walked down to the great hall for breakfast, with Nymeria following close behind.

Arya was sitting down in the great hall eating bacon and sausage with bread when Jon wandered over with Ghost behind. It was only in the last few days that Arya's uncle, Ser Edmure, allowed the direwolves to roam the castle so long as they were with their companions. Ghost trotted over to Nymeria who greeted him and settled down beside him as Arya threw a piece of bacon to them. Jon smirked as he ruffled Arya's hair before taking his own seat and greeting Obara. Not long after Jon joined and asked for a servant to get his breakfast Sansa joined them, dressed in a pretty gown that was a mixture of both the Stark and Tully colours. She sat down and waited for her breakfast which arrived a few minutes later. Sansa greeted everyone at the table including Jon, which she did without being overly friendly. _Thank the gods for that_ , Arya thought. _It was getting quite embarrassing watching Sansa fawn over Jon like that_. Nymeria nudged her head under Sansa's arm to get her attention, and after a moment Sansa huffed before turning around to scratch her behind her ears. Arya resumed eating her breakfast, but a few moments later she heard Sansa calling out to Nymeria in annoyance. Arya looked to her sister and saw that Nymeria had pinched one of the rashers of bacon from Sansa's plate.

"She did the same to Obara here not long ago Sansa," Arya said with a snigger. Sansa looked at Arya with a look of indignation before calming down.

"She's almost as bad as you Arya," Jon said before anyone else could speak. Arya shot an offended look at Jon which made him laugh, along with Sansa and Obara. They all had idle chatter for a short time before Arya noticed her mother and father approaching their table. Jon and Obara rose quickly and bowed to them before Sansa acknowledged them. Arya was busy eating her second helping of breakfast and so could not respond straight away, but when she finished chewing her food she greeted them.

"Girls, Jon, Lady Obara," Catelyn spoke. Obara gave a little sigh but said nothing in response. Arya remembered hearing that Obara and her sister had insisted on forgoing formalities as they were bastards, but Arya's mother insisted. Arya also noticed that her mother was not entirely comfortable around the Dornishwomen, but whether that was because they were bastards or Dornish she did not know. Catelyn and Eddard sat down next to them and looked at them quietly for a short time. Knowing that they wanted their attention Arya stopped eating her food and waited for them to speak. Before long her father spoke.

"We shall be leaving within the hour," Eddard said looking at Arya and Sansa. "It'll be several weeks if not a couple of months before you see us again, so you'll be staying here until then. I want you both to stay within the castle walls and not venture anywhere else." He then turned to face Jon. "Jon, you'll be helping to protect the surrounding lands as well as helping to train the garrison. Help Ser Robin Ryger and Ser Desmond Grell as best you can with their duties. If we have not returned after three months you are to take charge of a band of men and lead them to scout out the southern Riverlands and keep an eye on the borders there. You'll be in charge of said men alongside a man of Ser Ryger's choice." Arya watched Jon nod his head in answer.

"When will we be going back to Winterfell father?" Sansa asked. Arya watched as her father sighed slightly before answering.

"When we come back your mother shall stay here for a short while before returning home, so you'll leave with her when the time comes," he answered. "Now, both of you eat your food and then come out and see us off, okay?" Arya nodded her head and returned to eating.

After an hour Arya was stood outside in the courtyard of Riverrun with Sansa standing beside her. Jon was stood off to the right beside his three friends, dressed in boiled leather and mail with a sword on his left hip. Bronze Yohn and his son Ser Andar were both sitting atop their horses wearing suits of bronze armour, both looking serious. Eddard and Catelyn were standing before Arya and Sansa; their mother embraced them first, hugging them together while asking them to behave and bidding them farewell, then their father spoke with them, putting his hands on their shoulders before saying the same things as their mother before he pulled them both together into a tight embrace. As her father hugged them Arya noticed her mother was standing before Jon and patting his arm affectionately, both of them looking a little bit uncomfortable. _Despite everything they are still not used to being more than civilised_ , she thought sadly. _Why did you have to wait so long father? You should've told mother long ago_. Rather than let her bitterness take over Arya just tightened her hold on her father before they parted. Eddard walked over to Jon and the two of them spoke briefly before they too embraced, albeit briefly. Soon after Arya watched her parents walk over to their horses and mount them before they turned around and rode off with Bronze Yohn and the Vale knights.

A few minutes after they had left Arya retreated to her rooms, moving as swiftly as was possible with the dress that she was wearing. When she entered her rooms she removed the silly garment and pulled on her breeches and tunic before looking for Needle, which she had stashed in the chest at the foot of her bed. After making sure that she had everything Arya left her rooms and wandered along the corridors until she came across the room that Robb had made sure she was given to use for training. She had expected Jon to join her but was surprised to see Nymeria Sand practising with a pair of daggers. The second eldest daughter of Oberyn Martell moved gracefully as she slashed her daggers at invisible opponents. Arya watched the Dornishwoman for quite a while before she suddenly stopped and faced her.

"Are you going to join me little wolf?" Nymeria asked. Arya entered the room properly, closing the door behind her before she walked further in.

"You've got a height advantage over me, I'd only lose," she responded. Nymeria laughed as she spun her daggers in her hands before sheathing them.

"My father always said that you should never underestimate an opponent just because they are shorter than you," she said with a giggle. "He has let me and my sisters learn how to fight, using whatever weapon we desire to learn to use." Arya smiled at her as she drew Needle and walked to the centre of the room while Nymeria stepped aside for her.

"My father only recently allowed me to learn how to use a sword," Arya told her. Nymeria laughed softly just as Arya was about to begin her water dance training.

"Is that what you call that?" she asked, her voice teasing. "That looks more like a sword that the Bravos of Braavos use." Arya smirked and nodded her head.

"It is," she said. "I was being trained the water dance by Syrio Forrel, who was the First Sword to the Sealord of Braavos." Nymeria looked at Arya then with a look of respect.

"A First Sword, eh? Well not even I would turn my nose up to someone like that," she said. "I've seen how the Bravos fight, and it is certainly an elegant form of swordplay. A handy technique for one on one combat, but useless against several opponents unless you are well trained and skilled." Arya frowned at Nymeria's words.

"I saw Syrio defeat several Lannister men-at-arms who came to arrest me after my father was arrested by Joffrey," she said trying not to raise her voice. "And that was with a training sword." Nymeria gave her a small smile as she walked over to a small case with some training weapons within.

"Then he must have been a master swordsman to fight off so many foes," she said. "But for someone with your skill level, it's a useless technique against more than one opponent. So..." Nymeria turned to face Arya with a pair of short wooden swords. "Let us see how good you can learn a second style of fighting." Arya was surprised by this as Nymeria stepped closer and held out one of the swords to her.

"Wouldn't that put me at a disadvantage if I want to keep learning the water dance?" she asked as she put Needle away. Nymeria simply smiled at her before answering.

"A swordsman can master one technique with the sword, but a true master can fight with two or more styles as well as master one particular style," she told her. "You can still practice the water dance, but you and I can practice another style together, see how well you adapt." Nymeria gave a twirl of her wooden sword which Arya tried to mimic, only to drop the sword with a clatter. Nymeria giggled while Arya picked up the sword and then took her fighting stance. "Left handed? That'll confound many opponents in a fight." Arya smiled as she remembered Syrio making the same observation. "Now then Princess Arya, let's begin," Nymeria said before lunging at her. Arya had no time to tell the Sand Snake to not call her by her title as she soon found herself sparring with the elder woman, laughing away as she traded swings and slashes and lunges. _Now this is how to have fun_.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Next chapter will be up shortly.

So we have had a look at things from the POV of Bronze Yohn and we see Robb discovering the secret path that allowed him to enter the Westerlands without going through the Golden Tooth. With Petyr I wanted to let folk know where he was as well as showing how he is trying to adapt to the situation (which he isn't doing too good a job of right now). As for Arya, well I just felt like going back to her. I'll admit I love her character and do have a wee bit of a soft spot for her. I hate how she seems to have become a cold person over the course of the canon story, but with what she has had to put up with it's hardly surprising is it? We'll get to see her again, but we won't have her POV for a long time yet.

Anyway, next up we have the battle at Oxcross and then we go to the Golden Tooth. See ya there.


	12. Into The West

**Author's Note:** Update 2 of 2 for today. Warning for language and violence (it is a battle after all).

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

 **Into The West**

* * *

Robb

The rain came thundering down as Robb sat on his horse, his eyes scanning the camp ahead of him. His host was now nine-thousand strong, and all of them ready to fight. He had Smalljon and Harrion to his left while Lucas and Dacey, who had joined with her mother as part of the reinforcements, sat to his right. Grey Wind was up ahead ready to jump out from the woods and scare the horses of the enemy host. Robb sent his scouts ahead to cut the lines that were holding the horses where they were, so that when Grey Wind pounced and scared them the horses would thunder through the camp and cause confusion. Now Robb was simply waiting for word that everyone was in position. He sat quietly on his horse, wearing his armour and resting his sword hand on the hilt of his longsword. To his far right were Lady Maege Mormont and her men, and right of her was Robb's uncle who gathered his own bannermen. To the left were Greatjon and Lord Rickard, along with their men as well. The plan was to charge out as one and overwhelm the camp a minute after the horses were set loose. Lord Rickard and Ser Edmure would go around the flanks of the host and charge in while Lady Mormont and Greatjon would thunder in alongside Robb, tearing straight through the middle of the confused host.

After staring ahead for what seemed like forever a runner came up to Robb, stomping through the mud until he came to a halt beside Robb's horse.

"My prince," the man spoke. "The line is cut and our men are out of the way." Robb nodded his head.

"Good. Now we just have to wait for word from the other groups." Barely a minute later Olyvar came riding up to them.

"My prince, the left flank is ready when you are," he told Robb.

"Very good Olyvar," Robb answered just as he saw another rider approach.

"The right is ready my prince," the messenger said. Robb smiled at this as he looked back at the scout runner.

"Tell the men it is time to let Grey Wind loose," he commanded. The runner bowed to him before taking off. Robb looked back to the enemy camp, his eyes scanning over the numerous tents that would soon be trampled over. It would be about ten minutes before the horses were let loose, so Robb relaxed himself just a little bit.

"Just thinking over the plan Robb?" Harrion asked him. Robb looked at him briefly before nodding his head and looking back.

"Can't make any changes now Harrion," he told him. "We're committed to the plan now. Not that I would do anything differently." As he spoke Robb watched a group of Westermen pikemen marching by the tents, right in front of where the horses would be going.

"Those poor fuckers will get trampled into the dirt," Smalljon spoke with amusement. Robb barely resisted the urge to smile at his friend's remark.

"Those that don't will get their skulls caved in by us," Dacey replied from Robb's other side. "I don't know what's worse, getting crushed by horses or having a mace smashed into you." Robb looked at the Mormont heir and saw the vicious smile on Dacey's face. _Gods I'm glad she's on our side_ , he thought.

"What matters is that they will be dead one way or the other, unless they drop their arms and surrender," he responded. "And we will take prisoners if they surrender. No exceptions."

"Does cutting them down while deafened..." Harrion began before Robb glared at him.

"No exceptions," he repeated. Harrion held up a hand in surrender.

"I jape Robb," he said, prompting a chuckle from Dacey.

"Maybe you should leave the japes to Smalljon," she said. "After all, everything he does in life is a jape." Robb laughed with Lucas and Harrion as Smalljon glared at Dacey.

"That so Mormont?" he spoke a bit too loudly.

"Not so loud Jon," Robb reminded him while laughing still. The group fell quiet again once they all stopped laughing, and for the next few minutes they stayed quiet, until the horses bolted as planned.

The first Robb knew that the horses had bolted was when he saw some of the Westermen running towards where the horses were kept, clearly panicking as they waved their arms about. A couple of moments later the first horses rode into view, ploughing through those who did not get out of the way quick enough. The horses tore through the camp at speed, crushing underfoot anyone and anything that was in the way. Robb watched as tents collapsed under the weight of hooves, and he saw one or two men being pummelled into the ground. He was certain that he saw one unfortunate Westerman having a hoof crush his skull, but in this darkness it could well have been rainwater splashing up from the hoof coming down. Horses whinnied and shrieked as they galloped, the scent of Grey Wind having driven them mad with fear. Men shouted and cursed as they were crushed or watched their friends being crushed by the stampede. After half a minute two thirds of the tents that Robb could see were trampled, and he decided to draw his sword ready. After another half minute he raised his sword and waved it in the air.

"NOW!" he bellowed as loud as he could, and then he heard the war horns of his host blaring. The battle-cries resonated in the night sky, louder to his ears than the thundering rain. He urged his horse onwards and soon his host charged into the disorganised Westermen. The few tents that were still standing came closer and clearer, and Robb could see the enemy as they were doing whatever they were doing; groups of men running towards the panicked horses in a bid to try and recover them; several men lying on the ground injured by the stampede; some wandering about in a daze as if they were dreaming; a couple of men moving to help the injured; and one lone pikeman staring at Robb stupidly with his pike gripped tightly in his hands.

Robb's eyes locked with the enemy pikeman as they just stared at each other, with Robb getting closer to him while the man just stood there. When the man finally made to move, it was too late for him. Robb was not sure if the man was going to raise his pike or throw it down in surrender as he had swung his sword down at almost the same time. The castle forged steel blade cut through the man's neck, blood jetting out in an arc trailing after the blade. Robb fixed his eyes on his next target who was drawing his sword ready. By the time the sword was free of the scabbard Robb had slashed his sword upwards, splitting that man's face in two.

"IT'S THE FUCKING STARKS!" he heard someone shout fearfully. Looking to one side Robb saw his men crashing through the remaining tents and carving a bloody path through the Westermen. Not needing to look to the opposite flank as he knew it would be the same outcome Robb focused his eyes ahead of him. Three men stood directly in front of him, but only one had the good sense to dive out of the way. The other two were trampled by Robb's horse as he rushed through them, barely registering their death shrieks. He caught movement from his left and saw a pikeman running at him, but as Robb got ready to engage him a grey blur tackled the pikeman from behind. He watched as Grey Wind tore the man's throat open viciously, blood splashing out of the large gaping hole. Soon after Grey Wind was on the move again, and Robb looked for another foe.

Slowing his horse down so as not to ride blindly into his foes Robb turned to seek out his friends. Lucas was riding past him, slashing his sword at a fleeing Westerman who was too slow in escaping him. Dacey was smashing her mace into the head of one unfortunate soul who thought to try and engage her and Harrion had her back covered, parrying the attack of an enemy knight who was on foot. Smalljon was laughing heartily as he raked his greatsword across the chests of two men standing beside each other, opening one of them while slicing the other in two. Robb looked back to the battle and saw a man running at him with a sword held high. Robb raised his sword up and kicked his horse's sides to charge at the man. The enemy man suddenly halted in his tracks before throwing down his weapon and fleeing, his courage having deserted him. Robb would have laughed were it not for the sound of a dozen men-at-arms charging at him with pikes level.

"SMALLJON, DACEY!" Robb bellowed as he turned his horse to ride back to his friends. He rode back to see that Harrion was still fighting the same knight. Robb slashed his sword down into the knight's arm, carving it off. Harrion looked up at him with a look of shock and annoyance.

"That bastard was mine!" he yelled.

"You can have one of them behind me!" Robb yelled back pointing his sword at the pikemen. Harrion looked over at them and glared at them as Dacey and Smalljon gathered beside him. He saw Lucas manoeuvring himself into a position that would let him flank them, and beside him were five other mounted Blackwood men with spears held ready. Robb nodded to him and Lucas waved his sword forward, charging into the pikemen. They were caught off guard and all but two were killed, the rest having been crushed or impaled on the Blackwood spears. Robb rushed forward along with Harrion to the last two, and when he was close enough he hacked his sword down at the nearest pikeman, only to have his attack blocked. The pikeman tried to thrust his weapon at Robb who kept his blade locked with his foe's, the two trying to force the other to pull their blade away. If the pikeman pulled away Robb could follow up with a swift strike, but if he pulled away the pikeman could simply thrust at him again, and at this distance Robb's armour would not do much to keep him alive. However a blade flashed out of nowhere and struck off the pikeman's head. As the headless body crashed to the ground Robb saw Harrion grinning at him.

"Now we're even!" he bellowed at him. Robb chuckled with his friend before they rejoined the battle.

Leading his friends further into the slaughter Robb watched as his men carved through the disorganised rabble that the Westerman host had become. Men stood rooted to the spot in shock as their fellow Westermen were cut down, seeming incapable of either running or fighting. Some of Robb's men had dismounted their horses to fight on foot, including Greatjon who was hacking men apart with his greatsword. One fool rushed at him alone with only a spear, only to have his weapon broken before being split in twain from scalp to groin. Robb urged his horse on to Greatjon, slashing at a man-at-arms who thought he could catch him unawares. The man's body flew back as blood gushed out from his opened chest.

"Greatjon! How goes your end?" he shouted at the Lord of Last Hearth as he cut a man in half across the belly.

"It's bloody tiring gutting these whelps my prince, but we're doing good!" he shouted back as Grey Wind pounced on a man who tried to sneak up behind Greatjon. "These dumb fools are too busy shitting and pissing themselves to give us a proper fight!" He thrust his sword into a swordsman who came charging at him screaming like a banshee. The man found himself impaled up to the hilt before Greatjon savagely tore his blade free and parried the blow of another swordsman. Grey Wind danced around the feet of several men-at-arms who tried to impale him, only for one of them to thrust his sword into the foot of his friend. Robb rode up to those men and hacked his sword down into one's shoulder, nearly cutting that man in half. He saw Smalljon had dismounted his horse and was now fighting beside his father, carving men into bloody chunks.

"Keep up the good work Lord Umber!" Robb bellowed to the man. "Smalljon, take half of your father's man and tear the camp to pieces!" Smalljon gave him a gleeful look that made him look like a living horror with the firelight illuminating his face.

"Gladly Robb!" he shouted before hacking off his current opponent's leg at the knee and slashing his throat open. As Smalljon made his way towards the camp, shouting at Umber men to follow him, Robb turned to Dacey who was fighting off a determined swordsman. Robb turned to face them only to see Dacey's mace smash into the swordsman's skull, splattering blood over her right thigh.

"Gods these idiots are dumb!" she shouted to him. Robb was about to respond when he heard Grey Wind snarling off to his right. Turning to his direwolf he saw four Westermen that had decided to try their luck stopping in their tracks before tripping up over their feet trying to get away from Grey Wind. One was pushed into the ground below and had his neck ripped open by the direwolf's teeth. The other three screamed in terror as Robb and Dacey raced after them. Robb slashed his sword into the head of one man as Dacey smacked her mace into the back of the head of another. As Harrion appeared from ahead of them and thrust his sword into the last one Robb realised that what he was doing was not exactly honourable, cutting down men as they fled from him. _It's either kill them now or risk them finding their courage later on and attacking me from behind, as quite a few of them seem content with doing_ , he justified to himself just as he heard a shout of fear and pain from behind him. Looking over his shoulder Robb saw Grey Wind tearing off the arm of a Lannister knight who was clearly trying to sneak up behind him. _So much for a southron knight's honour_.

For the next twenty minutes the battle, which was beginning to look more like a rout to Robb, carried on in the same pattern with Robb and his companions cutting down men as they either fled or tried to fight back while he rode through the camp to see how things were going for his host. Lady Mormont and Ser Edmure were both doing well, as were their sub-commanders. When Robb rode to where Lord Rickard was he saw many dead Westermen, and noticed that a knight in Lannister colours was crawling on his knees with blood pouring down his side as Lord Rickard stomped after him, a look of absolute hate in his eyes. Robb watched as the Lord of Karhold raised his sword and swung it down at the Lannister knight who had begun to plead. The next moment the knight's head flew up into the air and fell as blood pumped out of the stump of his neck. As Lord Rickard stood up straight a man appeared behind him.

"FATHER!" Harrion shouted out in warning, but his words came too late as a spearhead exploded out of Lord Rickard's long grey beard. The lower half of his beard turned dark as he dropped to his knees, clutching at his throat. Robb looked on, stunned as he watched his friend's father die in front of them. "YOU FUCKING HONOURLESS CUNT!" Harrion roared as he spurred his horse after the Westerman.

"HARRION!" Robb called out before kicking his own horse's flanks to follow on. The Westerman was quite big, and Robb noticed that the man had the black and white brindled boar of House Crakehall embossed on his kite shield. Robb remembered two things then; one of the prisoners that he took at the Humbling was Ser Lyle Crakehall, often called the Strongboar, who had killed eight of his men before he was overpowered and taken captive; the other thing was that the man who killed Eddard Karstark before being killed in turn by Torrhen was Ser Lyon Crakehall. Both men were quite big, and it seemed that that was a family trait. _That and killing Karstarks_ , Robb thought as he raised his sword to strike at the Crakehall who was drawing his sword after having tossed away the broken spear-shaft. Robb caught up with Harrion and the two of them struck with their swords at the same time; Robb's blade was blocked by the shield while Harrion's was parried by the sword.

"Dismount your steeds traitors!" the Crakehall called out. "Face me on foot!" Robb glared at the man as he jumped back. He was wearing full steel plate armour and carried himself with an air of lordly authority. As he stood ready he opened his visor to reveal his face, which was lined with scars and wrinkles. Although none of them have ever met the man Robb realised that this must have been Lord Roland Crakehall, the Lord of Crakehall. Robb looked at Harrion and nodded to him, and the two of them dismounted their horses, noticing that they were being joined by Lucas, Dacey and over a half dozen other men.

Robb and Harrion walked over to Lord Crakehall who glared at them. Harrion had nothing but hate in his eyes as he stared at him, his sword hand gripping the hilt tightly. As they stopped walking Robb saw half a dozen Westerland knights approaching them, all with their swords drawn. As they stood ready to fight Robb saw from the corner of his eye another man join them. Turning his head he saw Torrhen, who had a look of anger on his face.

"We'll take him together Harrion," Torrhen said to his elder brother.

"Aye," was all Harrion said. Robb stepped forward slightly and faced the lord.

"Drop your weapons Northmen," Lord Crakehall demanded. "End your pathetic rebellion and I'm sure his grace will show you mercy." Robb had to resist the urge to laugh then.

"You're demanding us to surrender?" he spat. "Did you not hear of our victory over your liege lord? If I surrender to that inbred little shit on the throne the only mercy I'll get is my head on a spike. I'd rather he surrender."

"Not going to happen pup," Lord Crakehall sneered.

"Tywin Lannister is my prisoner," Robb told the lord. "Both of his sons are prisoners, as are his nephews, whose father died by my hand at the Humbling. You are in no position to be demanding us to surrender." Crakehall spat onto the ground between them.

"You have rebelled against your King boy!" he snapped. "I think you'll find that I am well within my right to demand your surrender. However, as you won't see reason, prepare to die."

"You first," Harrion snarled before he hurled himself forward with Torrhen beside him. Lord Crakehall brought his sword and shield up and began to fight the two Karstarks as Robb and Dacey engaged the same knight while all the others charged in and fought the other Westerland knights. Robb and Dacey had a tough time fighting their opponent, who was skilled with his sword. He blocked and parried effortlessly before hacking and slashing at them. A Riverland levy tried to assist them only to have both of his arms sliced off at the elbow before his head was sent flying off. Knowing that this knight was not going to go down easily Robb whistled for Grey Wind, hoping that his wolf would be nearby. As he did he saw one of the knights pull his sword free from a man in Stark colours before turning to Dacey.

"Dacey, behind you!" Robb shouted as he moved to keep their foe focused on him while Dacey turned to fight her new opponent. As he fought the knight he saw another Westerland knight rush him from the side. "Shit!" he yelled out as he just managed to jump back out of the way of the blow. He steadied himself and prepared for his opponents to attack, when suddenly Grey Wind launched himself onto the back of the knight who tried to surprise him. The man bellowed out in shock before screaming briefly as razor sharp teeth sank into his neck. The first knight brought his sword back ready to thrust into Grey Wind's flank, but Robb grabbed hold of the man's arm with his offhand before thrusting his sword into the knight's throat. The knight gasped as blood bubbled out of his mouth before Robb twisted his sword and yanked it out, tearing the throat wide open. He turned to seek out a new foe and saw Dacey slam her mace into the thigh of her opponent before smashing her knee into his gut and following up with a blow to the back of the neck. The knight fell to the ground, rolling onto his back and Dacey stomped her boot down on his throat, crushing his windpipe. Another knight who had just killed one of Robb's men turned to face Dacey only for Grey Wind to jump up and rip his throat open. Dacey looked at the direwolf and thanked him before looking back at Robb. Robb nodded his head to Dacey and they turned to the fight, which was nearly over; only Lord Crakehall was left standing, fighting off the vengeful Karstark brothers and three other men.

Deciding to sit this fight out to get his breath back Robb watched as the old lord opened up the belly of one of his men, spilling his guts onto the mud beneath them. The Karstarks and the other two kept up the pressure and slashed and stabbed at him. The lord's shield was a splintered ruin and after two more blows from Harrion's sword Lord Crakehall smashed it into the face of one of the men, letting it go before spinning out of the way of Torrhen's thrust and slashing at the man whose face he pummelled with his shield. As the man fell screaming Robb noticed Dacey getting ready to jump in and help.

"Not yet Dacey," Robb told her. "Give it another minute."

"They'll be dead in a minute if we don't help Robb," she said. Just then Lucas threw himself into the fight, his own sword drenched in blood, only to have the pommel of Crakehall's sword strike the side of his head. That gave Torrhen an opening, and the second son of Karhold swung his sword into the lord's side directly under his arm where the armour was weak. Blood fountained out from the wound as Crakehall staggered back, but the lord was not done yet. He slashed his sword at Harrion, the flat of the blade striking him hard enough to knock him off balance and stumbling into the dazed Lucas, sending them both sprawling to the ground. The last man-at-arms thrust his sword into Crakehall's leg with all of his strength, the blade punching through the weakened plate armour and into the thigh. Shouting in anger and pain Crakehall punched the man-at-arms in his throat before slashing his sword at the man's neck, nearly taking his head off. As Robb was about to go and finish him off Torrhen thrust his sword into the lord's armpit where he had already struck, pushing his blade in just enough to puncture the lung but not get to his heart. Crakehall gasped out and dropped to his knees, letting his sword fall into the mud.

"For my father," Torrhen said as he raised his sword high and brought it down, severing Lord Crakehall's head from his body. The helmeted head came rolling to a stop by Dacey's feet as Torrhen then proceeded to hack his bloodied sword into the lifeless body.

"Torrhen!" Robb called out to him, but the man ignored him as he vented his anger into the corpse of his fallen foe. After a few seconds Harrion grabbed hold of his brother and restrained him.

"Ease up Torr, you've got him," he told his brother. "You've got him." Torrhen struggled against his brother's hold for only a few moments before he relented, nearly collapsing in Harrion's arms.

Robb took the reprieve in the fighting to look around the ruined camp, seeing many dead littering the ground. All around him he saw very few Westermen on their feet, but he saw many more of his own men either on foot or on horseback. The battle was very much over, and the enemy was broken. Robb turned to look at the corpse of Lord Rickard and walked over to him. Kneeling down Robb looked at the body of his friend's father; his face was stuck in one of absolute shock, his eyes wide and unseeing, with blood coating the facial hair around his mouth. The head of the spear was still protruding from his throat, the strands of hair from his beard tangled with the iron tip. _Horrible way to go_ , Robb thought as he reached out and gripped the spearhead. He pulled it free from Lord Rickard's neck and tossed it aside before rolling his body onto his back. He looked up to see Harrion walking over to him, dropping to his knees once he reached them.

"I'm sorry Harrion," Robb said. Harrion looked up at him, a look of disbelief in his eyes.

"I never thought it possible," he said. "My father... dead... he always seemed invincible." Robb wanted to say something to him, but he could not think of anything at all so he just stood up and patted his friend's shoulder. Torrhen stumbled over to them and looked up at Robb.

"I... I'm..." Torrhen tried speaking but he just could not get any words out. Robb just nodded his head in answer and walked past him, patting Torrhen on the back as he walked to the others. Lucas stood there looking disturbed, no doubt remembering his own father's death at the battle outside Riverrun. Dacey was standing next to him, her face grim but her eyes full of sadness. As Robb joined them he saw his uncle riding over to him with several of his men.

"The battle is ours my prince," Edmure said from atop his horse. "We have seen no sign of Stafford Lannister though." Robb looked up at his uncle and nodded his head while Dacey wandered over to the body of the man that Lord Rickard had killed before being slain himself.

"That may be him Ser Edmure," she said as she approached the headless body. Robb joined her along with Lucas and his uncle once he dismounted, and they checked the body while Dacey picked up the head and brought it over. The hair was blond, but not quite as bright as the Kingslayer's hair, and his eyes were green. "What do you think Robb?" Dacey asked him.

"We'll get a prisoner to confirm for us," Robb said as he stood up.

"One of our scouts might know Robb," Harrion said as he too stood up, his voice quieter than normal and his eyes bloodshot. "That or the Blackfish." Robb looked over to Edmure, who looked between them before nodding.

"I will send for my uncle and see if he recognises him," he replied. "By your leave, my prince." Robb nodded his head to dismiss him before turning back to their horses. He saw that Olyvar had caught up with them and was keeping the horses under control, despite Grey Wind prowling around nearby. The Frey looked at Robb and bowed his head to him.

"Thank you Olyvar," Robb said as he took the reins of his horse. He looked over his shoulder to see Dacey and Lucas kneeling down beside the Karstark brothers, speaking with them quietly. Taking his eyes away from them he looked back at Olyvar. "Find Lord Dondarrion and tell him to round up any of the remaining Westermen that try to flee," he commanded before mounting his horse.

"Will do my prince," he answered before running to and mounting his own horse and riding to find the Lightning Lord. Robb looked around the field, which was littered with the bodies of dead men and the crumpled remains of tents. He felt discomfort at the sight of the aftermath, despite most of the dead being his enemy. _The sooner we end this war the better_ , he thought as he looked back at his friends, seeing Lucas wrapping his arm over Torrhen's shoulder while Harrion sat down with Dacey stood beside him with her hand on his shoulder, all of them looking at the corpse of Lord Rickard. _To think I once thought of war as a game. There's nothing to smile about here, not now_. Robb shook his head, looking away from the scene as he took in everything else around them. _Not ever_.

* * *

Beric

The Westerman screamed out in pain as Beric's sword carved through him, splashing blood over his armour. He was grateful that everything went as planned this time, with everyone doing as they were told instead of as they wished. They had been fighting for nigh on an hour when the battle finally came to an end, with hundreds if not thousands dead, mostly the levies of the Westerlands. Just before the battle came to an end young Olyvar Frey, the squire of Prince Robb, rode up to him and told him that Prince Robb commanded him to round up any enemy men-at-arms who tried to flee. Beric took about two-hundred men and rode out, tracking down and dealing with whoever they came across. Most of the men they caught surrendered without much of a fight, but there were some who fought back such as this group of men that they had just encountered. There were less than a dozen men, all led by a lord who wore black steel armour that had three golden lion heads inlaid upon the breastplate of said armour. It was this man that Beric found himself facing after killing his last opponent.

"Lord Antario Jast," Beric called out. "Yield now and save the lives of your remaining men." The lord looked at him with contempt before lunging at him, roaring with fury as he slashed at Beric's head. The blow was easily avoided though, as Beric simply ducked down before slashing his own sword up, the steel blade cutting into the gap between the breastplate and the shoulder pauldron. Blood jetted out of the wound and Lord Jast grunted in pain as he stepped back, still clutching his sword. The lord raised his sword to block Beric's second strike but his weakened arm could not hold against the force of the blow, allowing the tip of Beric's sword to scratch into the gap of the visor and slice into Jast's face. The man shrieked in agony as he dropped his sword and fell to the ground, removing his helm and grasping at his left eye.

"Mercy, I yield!" he shouted, blood seeping between his fingers. Beric nodded his head and looked around him, seeing the surviving seven men dropping their own weapons and raising their arms.

"Round them up," Beric commanded his men as he looked back at Lord Jast. "Someone see to his wounds." He walked away as three of his men walked over to the lord. Beric took a ragged cloth from his saddlebags and wiped the blade of his sword clean of blood, watching his men securing their new prisoners. Just then a group of Rivermen knights rode up to him, with a few prisoners of their own.

"My lord," the lead rider called out. "We have secured all of those who we could catch. We saw a large group of men heading in the direction of Casterly Rock though." Beric nodded his head.

"There's nothing to be done about that now ser," he replied. "Let's secure our prisoners and make our way to the Young Wolf."

"Yes my lord," came the knight's answer.

Two hours later the sun was finally coming up, and the carnage of the night time assault could be seen for miles. Tents were trampled into the dirt while men lay broken on the mud, which was red with blood and gore. Beric rode up towards a small gathering of Northmen where he saw Prince Robb stood talking with one of his own men, who Beric noticed was being restrained by two others. The weeping girl standing not far off with blood splashed over her gave him an idea of why Robb had one of his own restrained.

"But, my prince, they were only whores, ones who lay with the lions," the man spoke in a bid to defend himself. Robb glared at the man, his face stern and his eyes angry.

"That does not excuse you," the Young Wolf growled out. "My orders to the entire host were clear; attack the Westermen levies only, and leave the villagers alone. Defend yourself all you want, but murder is murder and I won't let it go unpunished." Beric watched as Robb nodded his head to the two men holding the condemned man, who then put him on his knees.

"My prince please, at least give me the option to take the black," the condemned man pleaded, his voice quivering with fear. Beric looked at the men who were gathered; most looked on dispassionately, clearly unimpressed by the man's bid to avoid justice, while some looked at the murderer hatefully. One or two however looked on in shock, as if what was happening was a grave injustice. Robb must have noticed those individuals, given what he said next.

"We are at war," he said, "but that does not mean that the law does not apply. Killing a man-at-arms in battle is one thing, but killing small folk is another thing entirely. Northmen, Rivermen, Valemen, Crownlander, Westermen, Reachmen, Stormlander, Iron Islander or Dornish it does not matter. All small folk are protected by the law. Murder is murder no matter where the victim comes from. In peace time you are given the option of taking the black, but while at war it is the discretion of the lord passing judgement. And I tell you now, any man brought before me for murder, or caught by me while in the middle of murdering, will be executed." Robb's voice was cold and harsh, but loud enough that all could hear him clearly. Beric nodded his head in agreement with the young man, as he too believes that death is the only fitting punishment for a levy who commits a serious crime during war.

"My prince, please," the man pleaded once again, but Robb was not moved by the man's words even as tears fell down the murderer's face. Beric looked at the young girl, who could not have been much older than sixteen. Her light brown hair was dishevelled and sticking out and she sported a black eye and a split lip. She wrapped her arms around herself and held her blood drenched brown dress tightly. Beric shook his head. _Did you listen to her when she no doubt pleaded with you as you killed her friend_? he thought as Robb's squire appeared with a wooden block. As Olyvar placed the block in front of the murderer Robb turned to the girl.

"You do not have to witness this if you don't want to," the Young Wolf said, his voice kind. The girl looked at him and shook her head.

"I... I want to see it, my prince," she spoke, her voice barely audible. "I want to see him punished for what he did to my friend." Beric watched as the girl tried to calm herself despite the tears that fell down her cheeks. Robb nodded before looking back at the men and nodding his head to them. They lowered the murderer down onto the block, keeping him down despite his struggling while keeping their heads back. Beric watched as Robb drew his longsword and held it in both hands, the tip planted into the ground. The murderer began to blubber as he finally stilled, resigned to his fate.

"In the name of Eddard of the House Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, King of the North and the Trident and the Vale, Defender of the Northern Kingdoms and Shield of the First Men, by the word of Robb of the House Stark, Crown Prince and Heir to Winterfell, do I sentence you to die," Robb spoke, his voice calm and clear. "If you have any last words, now is the time." Beric watched as the murderer looked up at Robb and pleaded once more for mercy before he looked back at the ground crying. In the next moment Robb raised his sword above the man's neck before bringing it up high and swinging it down. The murderer's head flew off, blood trailing behind as it rushed out of the stump.

The man dead, Robb turned to Olyvar and nodded his head. The squire walked over to the head and picked it up by the hair. Beric saw that his face was scrunched up in disgust, though whether at the sight of the criminal's face and his actions or because of the grisly outcome he could not decide. Beric looked at the girl who was led away by Dacey Mormont, the warrior woman rubbing the girl's back as she led her to wherever she would stay. Dacey intrigued Beric; she was a fearsome fighter with a skill to match even the finest battle-hardened knights, but she was also a kind and compassionate person who treated people with the care that only a highborn lady could give. Truth be told he did not know what to make of her. Shaking his head Beric turned to look at Robb and walk over to him. The Young Wolf was cleaning the blood from his blade as Beric approached him.

"Prince Robb," Beric spoke. "We have captured those who have tried to flee, but a large band had been able to get too far for us to catch up to." Robb looked at him and nodded his head, sheathing his sword.

"Did you capture anyone noteworthy Lord Dondarrion?" he asked him.

"Lord Antario Jast and Ser Lymond Vikary," Beric replied. "Lord Jast fought back and so was wounded, but Ser Lymond had the good sense to yield almost immediately." Robb gave him a small smile as he stepped closer.

"Good word Lord Dondarrion," he said as he turned to walk towards the village. "We'll get them seen to and secured properly. After that we'll ride east to the Golden Tooth and be ready to lay siege to it. Hopefully Lady Lefford will yield without too much trouble." Beric nodded his head as he walked beside Robb.

"Do you have a plan should Lady Lefford not see reason?" he asked Robb, who shook his head.

"My father might have had a plan in place, but I heard that he has gone to the Eyrie with Lord Royce, leaving Lord Mallister in charge," Robb told him. Beric nodded his head, trying to think of what to say. Before he could speak he heard his squire Edric Dayne calling out to him.

"Lord Beric!" the boy lord yelled. Beric looked at the blond haired lad as he ran to him, a fresh scar cutting through his left brow but thankfully missing his eye. "My lord, Harwin has just returned with his group. They have captured a Lannister." Beric turned to Robb who was looking at Edric with wide eyes.

"Is Harwin certain that he has a Lannister?" he asked.

"Harwin says that the man said that he was my prince," Edric answered. Robb looked back at Beric and nodded his head to him. "Shall I lead the way?" Edric asked as Robb was about to speak. Robb looked between the two of them before nodding to Beric again.

"Take us to Harwin then Edric," Beric told his squire.

Beric and Robb followed the young lord as he led them through the wrecked camp, with the direwolf Grey Wind following close behind along with a dozen guards. After a minute they were joined by Smalljon Umber, whose armour was splattered with blood. The Umber heir spoke with Robb quietly as they walked along, until they finally came to a stop by the fence of a farmhouse. Harwin was stood leaning against the fence, a water-skin held in his hands. There were eight men stood close to him along with a young man in Lannister armour. The Lannister had blond hair, but his eyes were a pale green instead of the bright emerald green that Lannisters from the main branch seem to have. Harwin and his men stood up straighter and greeted Robb as they approached. He returned their greeting before looking at the prisoner.

"Who are you?" Robb asked the young man who looked up upon being spoken to and glared at him.

"I am Ser Lucion Lannister boy," the knight spat. "My grandfather is a cousin of Lord Tywin Lannister, and he'll take your heads for this atrocity." Most of the men laughed at the young knight, whose face turned red with rage at his humiliation. "Silence traitors!" he spat, but the men only laughed more.

"I doubt your grandfather will be doing much in the way of taking heads ser," Harwin stated before he took a swig from his water skin.

"What do you know you whore-son?" the knight sneered. Harwin looked ready to punch him but Robb stopped him doing anything.

"You are quite a lively fellow I'll give you that," Robb said. "But insulting my friend's mother won't do you much good." Lucion glared at Robb before spitting on his feet.

"Well I suppose the get of whores should always stand firm together," he remarked. Beric shook his head then as he realised what was likely to happen next. "Now bring me before your so-called prince so that I can speak with him. I'll not suffer the presence of lowborn Northern shits any more than I-" Robb's fist struck Lucion across the face, hard enough that his nose broke. Blood streaked down his mouth and chin, and Beric noticed that even Smalljon Umber was surprised by the Young Wolf's blow. Lucion looked up at Robb and smirked at him. "You've just signed your death warrant fool. What do you think the little prince will do to you when he hears of this?" Robb looked at the knight with contempt, his eyes hard.

"I have no idea what my brother will do when he hears of me striking a prisoner who just insulted our lady mother," Robb spoke, and Lucion Lannister's face fell then when he realised what he had just said. "Did you not pay any attention to these men when they addressed me?"

"What?" Lucion stuttered stupidly. Smalljon stepped forward then, his smug grin returning to his face.

"You are in the presence of Prince Robb Stark, the Crown Prince and Heir to Winterfell, whose lady mother is the Queen Catelyn Stark," he said loudly as if talking to a simpleton. "You have just insulted our Queen, _boy_." He spat the last word out mockingly. Lucion looked down at the ground, looking like he wanted for the ground beneath him to open up and swallow him whole. Beric watched Robb lower himself so that he could look into the knight's eyes, but Lucion averted his gaze.

"I could well have taken your tongue out for that insult ser," he said coldly. "However, I think having your nose broken is enough punishment for you today. Now then, you are from another branch of House Lannister, correct?" Lucion nodded his head, resulting in more blood seeping down over his lips. "You'll tell me everything that I wish to know about the composition of the Lannister forces at both Lannisport and Casterly Rock, once you have been seen by a Maester." Robb stood up and looked at Harwin. "Take him to get his nose seen to, then secure him with our other highborn prisoners," he ordered.

"Will do my prince," Harwin said before nodding to his men.

After another couple of hours of wandering around the ruined camp Beric found himself sat down with a cup of wine in hand with Robb and some others inside the village inn. Beric sat next to Dacey on his left, currently drinking a mug of ale, and Harrion on his right, who was not drinking at all. The young Northman was now the Lord of Karhold after his father had been killed by Lord Roland Crakehall, who had been killed by Harrion's brother Torrhen. _That's the second Crakehall that he has killed now_ , he thought. _I wonder how long it'll be before the men start calling him Boar-slayer or something similar_. Sitting to Dacey's left was her mother Lady Maege, and to her left was Smalljon and then his father Greatjon. Robb sat beside him, his direwolf's head popping up next to his left arm as he took a swig of ale from the cup in his right hand. To Robb's left was his great-uncle Ser Brynden Tully, with Ser Edmure to his left along with Lucas Blackwood and then Ser Marq Piper. Beside the Piper heir was Ser Jasper Redfort, Lord Horton Redfort's eldest son and heir. The man was older than Beric, nearly twenty-seven, with short brown hair and a neatly groomed beard. He had joined the host with two-hundred men sworn to his House, including sixty knights.

"Right then my lords, my ladies," Robb began after he had drained his cup and put it back down on the table before him. "What do we need to know?" Ser Brynden spoke up first leaning forward over the table.

"I can confirm that the man slain by Lord Rickard Karstark was indeed Ser Stafford Lannister," the Blackfish stated. "His son Ser Daven was not accounted for however." Beric cleared his throat then, waiting for everyone to look at him before he spoke.

"A knight from the Riverlands who rode with me to capture those who fled told me that he had seen a large group heading in the general direction of Casterly Rock. It may be possible that Ser Daven has rallied some survivors and retreated to his family's seat to reorganise." Robb sat up straighter in his seat before looking back at the Blackfish.

"What do you know of Ser Daven?" he asked.

"He is more of a threat than his father ever could be," Ser Brynden answered. "Where his father was incompetent Ser Daven is anything but. He can fight and command men as a knight should, and prefers to fight up close with his men. With him in charge of the Lannister forces we may have a more serious foe to face once he reorganises his men. And he won't repeat his father's mistakes. Our fight here in the Westerlands will be much more difficult now." Robb nodded his head before looking around the table, waiting to see if anyone would speak. Over the time that Beric has spent in the young Northman's company he has learned that he prefers to listen to what others will say before deciding on a set path.

"We need to consolidate our forces first Robb," Dacey said from beside Beric. "We need to march on the Golden Tooth while leaving a sizeable force behind to deter any trouble makers."

"My daughter's right my prince," Lady Maege stated. "With your leave I'll remain with half of our host and post sentries. Once we get the rest of our army through we can worry about the Westermen forces who might try to rally and march against us." From Robb's right Greatjon hummed loudly.

"I too will stay behind, if you've no objections my prince," he boomed out. "Let the Lannisters shit themselves at the sight of Umber warriors and Bear Islanders while the rest of you open the Tooth up." Ser Jasper Redfort coughed to gain attention from those gathered. Beric looked over at him as everyone else did and waited for him to speak.

"It would be a good idea to have several patrols my prince," he spoke. "It'll be better to have them as well as sentries to keep an eye open for any attacking Westermen. If you wish I'll leave two score of my own knights behind to assist with the patrols." Beric looked at Robb to see him looking at Ser Jasper with his eyes narrowed, looking as if he was thinking over what to do. After a brief moment Robb nodded his head.

"That will be wise," he said. "Lord Umber, Lady Mormont and Ser Redfort shall remain here with half of our host while the rest of us shall ride east to the Golden Tooth and persuade Lady Lefford to yield. Once that is done we shall have little to no trouble in getting our forces into the Westerlands." Robb leaned back in his seat before looking over at the gathered lords. "Now, is there anything else to discuss?" For the next twenty minutes they discussed the outcome of the battle, going over their own casualties which were thankfully minimal, the number of prisoners taken which were many, the few highborn hostages that were taken which apart from Ser Lucion, Lord Antario Jast and Ser Lymond Vikary included the sons of Lord Jast, Roland Crakehall's son and heir Ser Tybolt and many others, and they also spoke of what to do with the dead. They all agreed on dealing with their own dead and making sure to send their bones back to wherever they came from but they disagreed on what to do with the enemy dead. Beric listened as some said to just pile the corpses and burn them while others suggested to leave them to rot. In the end Robb ordered the dead to be seen to respectfully, regardless of who they fought for.

"We shouldn't need to worry about them my prince," Ser Marq stated. "Let the crows have their feast." Beric glared at the young blond haired knight.

"We should be respectful of the dead no matter which side they fought for," he said. "Show respect to the dead of your fallen foe and maybe they will do the same if you should fall." Ser Marq glared back at Beric, his eyes wide and full of anger.

"Tywin Lannister's army sacked and burned my lord father's castle, putting many innocents to the sword and desecrating their bodies," he answered back. "They tore the bodies of people I have known since childhood to shreds, run them through repeatedly even after they had died. I even saw one cretin raping a woman's lifeless body. Why should we show respect to those..."

"That will do Ser Marq!" Robb bellowed as he stood up from his seat, Grey Wind growling menacingly from beside him. "We are not honour-less scum like Tywin Lannister and his men. We are men of honour, and we shall show respect to all of the dead, our own, our enemies, all of them. Now sit down." Ser Marq looked back at Robb, looking like he was about to protest further, but he fell quiet all the same. Once he had sat back down Ser Marq leaned back into his chair, still glaring at Beric but not saying another word. "We shall have all of the dead seen to. I do not care for whom they fought, we will treat the dead respectfully. Our enemy might not show us the same courtesy but that is irrelevant. We will show respect to them. My father, our King, wants this campaign to be conducted in an honourable fashion with respect shown to our foes as well as mercy, despite the fact that the Westermen have thus far shown neither respect nor mercy themselves. If we do this then our foe may come to realise that we are not the bloodthirsty barbarians that they make us out to be, and then the lords of the Westerlands may well decide that fighting us is not in their best interests. I want us to be able to move throughout the Westerlands swiftly, with few battles." Beric heard Harrion snort from beside him.

"Robb, you do realise that that will be a lot easier said than done?" he stated. Robb looked at the new Lord Karstark and inclined his head.

"Aye Harrion, of that I am aware," he admitted. "But it will cause us no harm to try now, will it?" Harrion was silent for a moment before he answered him.

"You have a point there Robb," he said with a sigh. "But regardless there is one fight that I want, and I do not want to be denied that." Beric felt uneasy then, wondering just what it was that Harrion wanted.

"Go on," Robb said calmly.

"To sack Crakehall and put them to the sword," came Harrion's harsh reply. Beric was surprised at the venom in Harrion's voice.

"Harrion," Robb began, leaning over the table with his hands supporting him. "I know that you wish for vengeance for your father's death but the man responsible is dead, by Torrhen's hand no less. Putting the Crakehall's to the sword serves no purpose. It would be murder."

"Not unless they resist," Harrion replied. Robb narrowed his eyes then, looking at his friend with concern in his eyes.

"You and I will discuss this later Harrion," Robb said in response. Beric looked back at Harrion who seemed to be shocked by Robb's dismissal.

"But my prince..."

"We will discuss this later Lord Karstark!" Robb bellowed. "Once you have grieved for your father and have had a chance to calm down we shall speak on this matter. I will consider giving you command of the forces who will lay siege to Crakehall, but not if you persist in speaking of it now!" Beric leant back from the table, shocked at Robb raising his voice but also impressed with how he has just handled Harrion, who sank back in his seat with his head bowed.

"My prince," he murmured quietly. Robb stared at Harrion for a short while before he sat back down.

"That will be all for now my lords, my ladies," he said, his voice calm again. "Let us retire and get some food and rest. We ride out for the Golden Tooth after midday."

Beric and the others stood up and left the inn, all going their separate ways. Beric walked with Dacey and her mother, both of whom were talking about how well they believed Robb handled himself in regards to Harrion. As they spoke Edric rushed over to them, his face cleaned of the filth from the battle last night.

"When the time comes for Ned, the North will be in capable hands," Lady Maege said as she brushed her fingers through her greying hair. "Prince Robb has come a long way since we first marched out."

"Aye mother," Dacey said. "Not quite as green now and he has shown that he can do his duties while under pressure, but he still has much to learn." Beric heard the elder Mormont woman snort with laughter then.

"I didn't realise that I was beginning to rub off on you now Dacey," she said. As the two women continued to talk Edric shook Beric's sleeve to gain his attention.

"My lord?" he said. Beric looked at him and smiled.

"Yes Edric?" he asked before stifling a yawn. He felt more tired than he has ever felt in his twenty-two years of life, and after last night he has felt older than he ever felt possible. _Now I understand how my father felt_ , he thought. Edric looked from him to the Mormont women before looking back at him. When he spoke he spoke with trepidation.

"I was wondering about... um, I mean, I was wondering if we could speak about when I would return to Starfall, now that my lord father is dead." Beric felt his heart sink then as he looked down at the eleven year old boy. A couple of weeks ago word had arrived from the ancestral seat of House Dayne informing them of the death of Lord Ulric Dayne. His illness had finally taken him and brought him to the Stranger, leaving Edric as the Lord of Starfall in name. "Will you be sending me back home after this war is done or will you still let me squire for you?" Beric knelt down so that he was eye level with Edric.

"You are my squire until I knight you Edric," he said. "I will not send you back until then, but once this war is done I may well take you back to Starfall and finish your squiring there. I know that is not how you wanted to earn your knighthood, and I know you wish to be worthy enough to wield Dawn, but you are the last son of House Dayne, unless you want Ser Gerold to lay claim to your home." Edric's eyes hardened at the mention of the man many called the Darkstar. The man was of a cadet branch of House Dayne, and was considered to be an unpleasant individual.

"I'll die before I allow Gerold to take my home," the boy lord said.

"It shall not come to that little lord," Dacey suddenly spoke up from beside them. Beric had forgotten that she was next to them. "With the way that King Eddard is dealing with Prince Oberyn it'll surely mean that an alliance with Dorne will see more involvement between our two peoples. I'm certain that this Gerold will think twice before trying to stake a claim to your castle." Edric looked up at her and puffed out his chest proudly.

"I thank you for your kind words my lady," he said. "But Darkstar is not an honourable person. He brings shame to my House, and I wouldn't put it past him to try and take my home when I am not there." Edric looked down at the ground, looking quite solemn as he no doubt started to think about his father. Beric stood up and looked at Dacey who looked down at Edric with a strange look in her eyes.

"Perhaps a drink will lift your spirits lad," she said. "You look like you could do with one." Beric watched his squire look at her with wide eyes before he shook his head.

"I do not drink my lady," he said. Dacey chortled, shaking her head.

"Have you never had a drop Lord Dayne?" she asked. "Not even at Lord Dondarrion's table?"

"No my lady," Edric answered, earning a scoff from Dacey.

"Cut the 'my lady' bollocks little lord," she said, her crude tongue shocking Beric's squire. "You are in the company of Northmen now. If you don't want to be looked at with suspicion then you'll need to learn to enjoy a drink."

"Knights are not supposed to drink," he said weakly. Beric laughed softly before putting a hand on Edric's shoulder.

"I enjoy the occasional drink Edric, as you well know," he told him. "That is unfortunately a weak argument." Edric looked up at him and shook his head.

"If I am to ever be worthy of wielding Dawn and becoming the next Sword of the Morning then I must not take to drink," he said adamantly. Beric sighed while Dacey laughed.

"I'm sure that a Sword of the Morning from the past has enjoyed the odd drink here and there before earning that title," she said as she stepped forward and took Edric's hand, pulling him along with her in a manner similar to how a mother would pull their child along. "And you are not a Sword of the Morning yet." Beric watched as a flabbergasted Edric found himself being pulled along by a highborn lady many years his senior to have his first drink. Beric looked over to Dacey's mother who had a wide grin on her face.

"That daughter of mine knows how to make friends Lord Dondarrion," she said to him as they watched Edric and Dacey disappear from their view. "We should be thankful that young Lord Dayne is still a boy, otherwise my daughter could well make him her new lover instead of you." Beric was shocked by those words.

"What do you mean my lady?" he asked. Maege Mormont chuckled as she looked over to him.

"I've seen the way my girl looks at you," she said. "I've seen how you look at her. The only thing stopping her dragging you into her bed is the fact that you are a lord with your own castle. Dacey is my heir, and she'll become the Lady of Bear Island when I die. If you were a second son then it would be you she's dragging off for a drink. We Mormont women do things very differently. We don't worry too much about keeping our maidenheads intact, our martial upbringing sees to that. If we decide to have a lover, we take one, no arguments. It takes a certain kind of man to keep us to one bed, and not many are up to the challenge." After that Lady Maege walked off, humming a tune to herself and leaving Beric to think on what she has just said. _Dacey has taken a lover before? No, that doesn't seem right_ , he thought. After a short while though he thought back to every time that Dacey has looked at him, with what Beric could only describe as desire in her eyes. _She does not seem the sort. But what if_... Beric shook his head, deciding to forget it and find something else to do. He walked away to where his tent was, intending to get some sleep, but all the while he could not get Dacey out of his mind. _What if she does like me_? he wondered.

* * *

Alysanne

The Lady of the Golden Tooth walked through the halls of her home, a sense of dread filling her as she did. She walked with two guards behind her, both with swords on their hips and their heads enclosed within their iron helms. They wore chainmail and leather armour like most guardsmen did, and they were quite sour, just like Alysanne felt right now. It has been months since she has heard word from her great-uncle, Lord Leo Lefford, who had ridden out with Lord Tywin Lannister and was with him at the battle that was known as the Humbling. Great-Uncle Leo was known to be a sour man, but that was not surprising when one considered that he had lost his only son a few years back and was left with only a girl for an heir. At nineteen Alysanne was indeed in an unusual situation; being the granddaughter of Leo's younger brother as well as his only living relative she should have been married at least three years ago, but few men had considered accepting marrying her. She was still a girl when Lord Leo's son died and as he did not remarry for whatever reason he had, Alysanne became the heir.

"Marry my great-niece and you shall become the Lord of the Golden Tooth, and your sons shall be born to House Lefford," he would say to the few prospective suitors that came to court her. She had quite a few suitors once she had flowered at thirteen, but all were put off not by her but by Lord Leo.

Alysanne had no trouble attracting suitors; she had a lovely figure that drew attention, full breasts that men seemed to have no problem looking at, a smooth looking heart shaped face, long brown hair so light it was almost blonde and reached her waist, and eyes that, as one suitor had said, were enchanting blue-green. Typically she would wear close fitting dresses that covered her modesty but hugged her frame and gave men a look at her figure, and she would wear silver bracelets and a necklace of gold with an emerald set into it. Today however she wore a modest dress of sky blue with golden yellow designs embroidered along the sleeves and the edges of the skirt, and she had her hair tied into a simple plait rather than having a more elaborate style. She left her bracelets and necklace in the jewellery box that she kept in her vanity in her rooms. Today she was going to walk along the battlements of the keep and look out to the east, where a host of men from three kingdoms was set up two miles away. After her walk she would go back inside and wait for Ser Stafford to arrive with his host, and then she can relax knowing that the rebels will not be able to enter the Westerlands this way. She has been doing this for the last eight days now, ever since Ser Stafford's messenger arrived to let her know that they would be marching soon.

As the door opened Alysanne took a deep breath and walked outside, breathing in the fresh air. She walked along the battlements and saw her guardsmen tending to their duties along with the keep's servants. To her east she could see the rebel forces had gotten closer to the Golden Tooth. She saw many banners from the Riverlands, the Vale and the North. _Fools_ , she thought disdainfully. _Have they nothing better to do_? Alysanne saw the Mallisters banners along with the Blackwoods, Brackens, Freys and other Riverland banners all on the one side. On the opposite side to them she saw the Redforts as well as the Waynwoods, Hardyngs and some other Vale banners. In the middle she saw the Manderlys, Glovers, Tallharts and other Northern banners. There was no sign of the Stark banner, which confused Alysanne. She watched as the rebels worked around their camp setting up palisades, digging up latrine pits, raising tents and so many other tasks. The sheer number of them was daunting. _Seven who are one give me strength_ , she thought, her heart sinking. Nothing has gone well for the Westerlands since the Humbling, and now it seems that the war is coming here. _I cannot let them through. I must not yield_. The path that the Golden Tooth has guarded since House Lefford was gifted the keep by King Cerion Lannister many thousands of years ago is flanked by mountains to both the north and the south. The keep itself sits on the edge of the road, close enough that anyone travelling was within range of the archers that were always on patrol. The rebels would have to take the keep if they wanted to cross into the west, and that would not be an easy task even with the current garrison.

"Look at them," she heard someone say further along. "So many o' them out there. How many do ye think there are?"

"Thousands, likely more," another replied. "An' we only 'ave three-hunnert guardsmen to keep them out." Alysanne cringed at the conversation. _Why can't lowborn speak properly_? she thought as she walked by the talking men who both bowed to her. "Milady," they both said. She walked past them and stopped at the door to the gate-tower where Ser Ralf, the captain of the guard and castellan of the Golden Tooth, was stood watching the rebels.

"My lady," he spoke as she approached. The knight bowed to her before he walked into the tower. Alysanne followed him into the room where a table was set up with several chairs, one of which was more comfortable than the others and given to her. Alysanne sat upon that chair while Ser Ralf kept standing. "As you can see the rebels have moved closer to our walls my lady," he said as a servant moved to pour her a cup of water. "Lord Mallister seems to be in charge of this host, but as to his intentions I have no idea. Perhaps he is awaiting the Starks, or maybe they have sent him to keep us in the Westerlands." Alysanne nodded her head.

"And so stop us from going to give aid to King Joffrey when his traitor uncles march on him?" she guessed. Ser Ralf nodded his head in answer. "Were it not for the Reach siding with Lord Renly then we could just march our forces through the Reach and attack from the south."

"If only it would've been that easy," Ser Ralf said with a chuckle. "Sadly the Reach would hinder us if we were to move through their lands even if they did not take Lord Renly's side. The Tyrells are arrogant and seem to think they are better than others, just because the Conqueror gave them Highgarden after the Field of Fire where House Gardener was extinguished. I believe Lord Lefford said it best when he said that the Tyrells were just the Freys of the Reach." Alysanne frowned at that comparison, thinking it rather unfair to liken anyone to the Freys of the Twins. She remembered a couple of years ago when a knight of House Frey arrived to seek her hand. Alysanne would have considered the match if it had been a nameless bastard knighted by the King himself, but the man was a grandson of Lord Walder Frey and known to be quite unpleasant. She never even gave her great-uncle a chance to refuse him as she did that herself, telling him that he was not welcome. _The day I let a Frey take my maidenhead is the day the Others come back_ , she thought.

"House Tyrell is far more... cultured than House Frey, Ser Ralf," she said after a few moments. "At least they have more handsome knights than the Freys do."

"Yes my lady, but they are just as power hungry," the knight replied. "Anyway, Ser Stafford should hopefully be here by..." The door behind him opening with a bang cut him off as a lowborn guardsman entered.

"Ser Ralf, milady," the man spoke in a rush. "A host has marched up from our west." Ser Ralf smiled as he looked back at her.

"Well then, looks like Ser Stafford has arrived now," he said, but the guardsman looked at him with wide eyes.

"No ser, it's not Ser Stafford," he said. "The rebels are marching on us." Alysanne looked sharply at the man as she stood up.

"Impossible," she told him. "The only way into the Westerlands aside from here is from the south or the coast, and the rebels don't have a fleet." Before anyone could say another word the sound of war-horns blaring drew their attention. Alysanne followed Ser Ralf and the guardsman out and walked along the walls, where she looked to the west and felt her heart beat faster than she thought it should.

The host marching up to the Golden Tooth looked to be about four-thousand strong, with many banners fluttering in the wind. Alysanne saw the leaping silver trout of Tully, the dancing pink maiden of Piper, the roaring giant of Umber, the black bear of Mormont, and the white sunburst of Karstark to name but a few. The most prominent banner however was that of a grey direwolf racing over a field of white. The Starks were here, and had somehow gotten into the Westerlands without going through the Golden Tooth. Men shouted out in alarm then as the host marched along the road, stopping when they were just out of range of the archers. Senior guardsmen and knights cursed at the sight of the rebels, and Alysanne felt fearful as it dawned on her that she was surrounded.

"STAND TO!" Ser Ralf shouted, and soon guardsmen were rushing to their posts, bows held ready and arrows knocked. "My lady, you should perhaps return to the keep," Ser Ralf suggested to her. She was about to nod when she saw a peace banner being raised by the rebels.

"Ser Ralf, look," she said as she pointed to the banner. A lone man on a horse rode up to the wall, the reins in one hand and the peace banner held in the other. He was quite young by the looks of him, and looked quite plain; neither handsome nor ugly. He wore mail and leather and Alysanne could see that he was nervous.

"Archers, draw and hold," Ser Ralf commanded. Alysanne saw the men drawing their bowstrings back and noticed that quite a few were shaking nervously. She was no expert but she knew that all it would take would be for one man to accidentally loose off his arrow and then the battle would start. Despite not knowing how this second host had gotten into the Westerlands one thing was clear; Ser Stafford's host would not be coming.

"Ser Ralf, order the men to stand down," she told her castellan. The knight looked back at her, his eyes wide.

"But my lady, what if it's a trap to make us relax our guard?" he asked her. Alysanne had not thought of that possibility, but that was not the point.

"Look at your men ser," she said. "Most are far too nervous to be aiming their bows and holding steady. If just one man loses his grip and sends an arrow into that messenger then we are doomed." Ser Ralf sighed as the realisation sank in. "Now order the men to stand down." The knight stood still for only a moment before nodding his head in defeat.

"Stand down," he ordered, his order echoed by the officers. Every archer relaxed their aim, lowering their bows, and Alysanne looked back at the messenger.

The young man stopped maybe ten yards from the wall and looked up. He looked across the battlements of the wall and stopped briefly when he saw Alysanne. She felt a flutter of nerves when their eyes met, not knowing if there was indifference or malice behind those eyes. The man straightened himself on his mount and began to shout.

"In the name of His Grace Eddard Stark, the King in the North and the Trident and the Vale, you are called upon to yield the Golden Tooth to Prince Robb Stark, the Heir to Winterfell!" he shouted loudly. Alysanne had to hide her surprise at the words; she had heard rumours that the North along with the Riverlands had named Eddard Stark as their King, but the mention of the Vale calling him their King too was quite unexpected. Nevertheless she had to answer the man down below, and she felt more nervous than ever before. Alysanne looked to Ser Ralf who nodded his head to her.

"You are the Lady of the Golden Tooth. Only you can answer to that," he told her. Gulping down nervously Alysanne stepped closer to the wall and looked down.

"I will speak with your Prince Robb!" she called out. "Go back and tell him that I shall only speak terms with him and no other!" The man seemed to be shocked by her answer but he bowed his head and turned his horse around, riding back to the rebels.

For twenty minutes Alysanne stood by the walls, her heart hammering in her chest as a thousand scenarios played in her mind, some more grisly than others. As she was starting to feel like going back to her rooms and waiting there a small party of rebels rode up to the gate. Alysanne ordered for Ser Ralf to accompany her with half a dozen men as she made her way down to the courtyard. One man suggested to let the Stark boy in and capture him, but Ser Ralf quickly silenced the fool.

"We take him captive then his host will destroy us all," he hissed at the man. "What do you think the Northmen in particular will do if that happens?" The guardsman held his tongue after that, and after a minute the gate opened. Alysanne walked out with her guards, having refused to ride out on her horse to meet with the rebels. She would not go far from the gate and she would be under the protection of the archers upon the walls as well as the men with her. The rebels that rode up were not quite what she expected. Growing up as a child Alysanne had heard that the men of the North were all no better than wildlings with their furs and manes of unkempt hair and hideous scars. The Northmen in front of her looked nothing like the tales that she had been told. There were a dozen of them, mostly Northmen apart from one or two who she realised were of the Riverlands. The Northmen wore either iron or boiled leather over mail while the Rivermen wore steel-plate armour. The messenger sat atop his horse, still holding the peace banner. At the head was a young man with auburn hair and a trimmed beard, with hard blue eyes. He wore steel-plate armour, and held on his horse's side was a shield with a direwolf head engraved upon it. His helm which he held under his arm was plain, devoid of any decoration, and his longsword's hilt was a simple cross-guard and grip wound with leather and a semi-circular pommel. What was most interesting however was the grey furred beast that was standing next to him, its yellow eyes looking at her intently. When those eyes shifted onto her guards the beast bared its teeth at them, growling lowly.

"Lady Lefford?" the man asked after he dismounted his horse. Two of his guard detail also dismounted and followed him when he walked over to her. "You wish to speak terms so I hear," he stated. Looking at the man standing before her and taking in his Tully appearance it was clear to her who this was, having heard that Eddard Stark's eldest son has his mother's looks.

"That is correct Lord Stark," she replied. One of the guards who followed the Young Wolf stepped forward, and to her amazement Alysanne saw that it was a woman dressed in men's mail.

"You are standing before Prince Robb of the House Stark of Winterfell," the woman said. "You will address him as 'my prince'." Alysanne looked at the woman who was clutching the grip of her mace, as if waiting to start swinging it.

"Who do you think you are, speaking to highborn in such a manner wench?" Ser Ralf snapped.

"Careful ser," the Young Wolf growled out. "You are speaking to the Heir of Bear Island, Lady Dacey Mormont. The Mormonts are a proud noble House who do not take too kindly to anyone showing disrespect to my own House. Unless you would like to see first hand what a warrior woman of Bear Island is capable of I suggest that you hold your tongue." Looking at her castellan Alysanne could see that Ser Ralf was seething at the Stark boy. Deciding to diffuse the situation Alysanne held up a hand and took a single step forward.

"Prince Robb," she started, turning back to face the boy. _Man_ , she chided herself. _The boy is a man who has fought and killed men. Give him the respect that he is due_. "I am not accustomed to addressing those of a higher station than mine own, so please forgive my earlier words. I would speak with you and you only in regards to the matter of your two hosts camped outside my family's walls." Robb Stark looked at her and simply nodded, his gaze stern.

"You want to discus terms?" he repeated. Alysanne nodded her head in answer. "The terms are simple. As you have said there are two hosts camped outside your keep. Ser Stafford Lannister is dead, his host scattered. It will be a long time until help is organised, by which point we will be marching throughout the Westerlands. Here are my terms my lady. Order your men to stand down and surrender their arms. Any man who wishes to return to their families will be allowed to do so. Any who wish to take the black will be allowed to do so. You will yield the Golden Tooth to me and then you will be escorted to Riverrun where you will be a hostage until the war is over. No harm will come to you while you are there." Alysanne blinked as the Young Wolf spoke, not believing what she was hearing. "The remains of Lord Leo Lefford will be brought here to be laid to rest with his ancestors in accordance with your family's traditions," he said next. At that Alysanne let out a small gasp, shocked by the sudden news. _My great-uncle is dead? No, no_. Alysanne felt sick upon the revelation of Lord Leo's death.

"How..." she tried speaking, but her words were caught in her throat. She cleared her throat and tried again. "How did my great-uncle die?" Robb Stark looked at her sympathetically, bowing his head slightly.

"He took an injury during the Humbling," he answered. "The wound was severe, and proved to be fatal. He died three days after the battle." Alysanne flinched at that news. _Three days of agony_ , she thought sadly. After a moment the Young Wolf continued with his terms. "Half of the Golden Tooth's wealth shall be given to the Riverlands as part of the Westerlands debt to the lands of House Tully and their vassal lords. Also, one third of all food stores shall be sent to the Riverlands for redistribution to cover the crops that were lost during the sacking of the Riverlands." Alysanne stared wide eyed at him as he spoke.

"Prince Robb," she began. "What you are asking of me is extortionate. The small folk of my lands will need that food, especially when the winter comes as your House words constantly remind us."

"Your small folk will have plenty of food to survive winter, so long as you share in their hardships and eat the same as they would," he told her. Alysanne was about to argue when she actually stopped and thought about what he just said. _He has a point. House Lefford is only one of many Houses throughout the Westerlands. But still, to share their hardships_? Alysanne felt that she was in a very unpleasant situation. She tried to think about what she should do for her House, remembering that she was now the head of her House. _What would you have done Lord Leo_? she thought, but she knew the answer to that. _Fight to the end. But I am not a warrior_. In the end Alysanne sighed loudly before looking back to Ser Ralf. She walked over to him and leaned closer to him.

"When we are done tell the garrison to lay down their arms and disband," she told him. Ser Ralf looked at her, horrified at the order by the look in his eyes.

"But my lady, your great-uncle..." he began, but Alysanne cut him off.

"Is dead ser," she said. "I am the last of House Lefford." She was trying hard not to let her emotion show. "You will give the order to the men to stand down." Ser Ralf looked at her, his eyes betraying the look of abject disgust he felt at the order. The knight nodded his head in defeat. Alysanne turned to face the Young Wolf and walked over to him, keeping her hands down by her sides. "I will comply with your terms my prince, but I have a demand of my own." Robb Stark looked at her sternly for what seemed like eternity before he finally spoke.

"I'm listening my lady," he told her. Alysanne steeled herself as she took a deep breath.

"I will remain in my home until I have laid my great-uncle to rest," she told him with a firm tone. "Only once I have seen Lord Leo laid to rest with our ancestors will I allow you to remove me from my home and send me to Riverrun." The Northman looked at her for a long time, not once looking at his guards. He was clearly thinking about her demand. Before long he gave her his answer.

"I can allow that my lady," he said. Alysanne had to fight to not show her shock; she had expected him to steadfastly refuse her demand. "I will send word for Lord Leo's remains to be brought here quickly. Once you have seen to his funeral you will leave for Riverrun." Alysanne bowed her head and dipped into a curtsey.

"Thank you, my prince," she said as she stood up from the curtsey.

Alysanne walked back into the courtyard of the Golden Tooth, and then she looked at Ser Ralf who looked at her with pained eyes. Obviously he took her orders as a betrayal to her House, which she could understand as the knight has served her family faithfully for many years now. He turned around and began to order his men to stand down and surrender their arms. Many of the guardsmen looked stunned by the order but they did as they were told anyway. Alysanne stood in front of the doors to the main keep and watched as her household guard laid down their swords, spears and bows. After half an hour a large group of rebels walked in through the gate and spread out over the courtyard, and soon the Lefford guards were walking out of the gate. The pile of weapons increased in height and the banners of House Lefford, golden inverted pile with yellow sun on the left upon a sky-blue field, were taken down to be replaced by the grey direwolf on white of Stark. Alysanne watched as the rebels began to occupy her family's home. The Young Wolf and his lords rode in and dismounted their horse before walking over to her. Alysanne knelt before him, hating that she was doing this but knowing that it was the only way to save her family and to ensure that no harm befell the small folk within her lands.

"The Golden Tooth is yours Prince Robb," she spoke. "I hereby surrender my ancestral home into your care." She kept her head down but looked up with her eyes and saw the Northman's hand signalling her to stand up. She did so slowly, keeping her hands in front of her and her head bowed.

"I accept your surrender my lady," the man said. And with that Lady Alysanne returned to her rooms under guard, but where before she was guarded by men sworn to her House she was now being guarded by Northmen sworn to the Starks. _How did it come to this_? she wondered fearfully.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So the invasion has begun.

I've always wanted to see the chaos of the battle that would've been fought under the conditions that the battle at Oxcross was fought under, so that was my take on it. Harrion is not in the best frame of mind right now seeing as he saw his father being killed, and everyone is now worried for him, Robb especially. As for Beric, well I like the guy and want to give him a better chance than he had in canon (I mean come on, getting killed and being brought back from the dead six times would be a right pain in the ass). As for him and Dacey, well the idea is stuck in my head along with two more ideas so we will see what happens.

Alysanne Lefford I had to take liberties with as we know next to nothing about her apart from her name. Everything else is unknown, including what her relation with Lord Leo is. I brought her in to give a view of how things are from the perspective of the other side of the conflict, like I did with Cersei a couple of chapter or so back.

Back to typing chapter for now, so see you when I get them done.


	13. Wolves and Falcons

**Author's Note:** Update 1 of 2. This chapter will have a scene set in Dorne to give us a glimpse of what's going on over there.

Warning for sex, and a distressing scene. Yes, it gets quite dark later on in this chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

 **Wolves And Falcons**

* * *

Petyr

The last thing that Petyr expected was for Lord Lyonel Corbray to refuse his offer of organising a marriage between him and a rich merchant's daughter in Gulltown. After eliminating Ser Lyn and taking possession of Lady Forlorn, Petyr had sent word to Lord Lyonel that his younger brother had left his tower and was last seen boarding a boat that was sailing across the Narrow Sea. Petyr told Lord Lyonel that he would send his people to track his brother down. They had met at Heart's Home, the Corbrays seat, where Petyr told him about Ser Lyn's departure. His lie seemed to work as Lord Lyonel did not question him further on his brother, but that was the only good thing that Petyr could get in regards to the man. When he tried to convince him that they should get sellswords to cross the Narrow Sea and help defend the Vale Lord Lyonel looked uncomfortable.

"Our knights are more than enough to hold the Vale," he had said to Petyr, who felt frustration towards the elder man.

"I understand my lord," Petyr had said to him. "But the knights who remain in the Vale will be hard pushed to deal with any who seek to force entry through the Bloody Gate as well as deal with the Clansmen. Far better to bring in sellswords to assist." Lord Lyonel was not convinced though, and had demanded to know how Petyr intended to pay said sellswords. "I can find the funds to deal with their wages my lord, and I am awaiting a payment from an associate of mine for a previous job. I'll be able to afford such sellswords." Still, Lord Lyonel was not prepared to lend Petyr any aid in regards to bringing in sellswords, and when he spoke of arranging a marriage for him the old lord was furious and finally snapped.

"I have allowed you into my walls Lord Baelish," he said in a stern voice that only just held his anger. "I accepted your acquaintance with my brother and I have taken heed of your counsel from time to time, but I do not approve of your attempts to put me into your debt. Now begone from my home and do not let me see you here in these walls again." Petyr was forced to leave Heart's Home rather swiftly then, feeling a little bit shocked by the lord's sudden dismissal. Few of his plans are working out indeed.

Still, Petyr was doing what he did best regardless; he sat down with his ledgers and closest allies and plotted his next move, though so far that is all that he has been able to do. _Maybe I should've used Stark for a little bit longer_ , he thought. _At least with that honourable fool I would still be within the capitol and able to deal with him. That and I would still have my network of informants and spies_. Going through his ledgers Petyr counted up the current value of the loans that he had made in the crown's name and smiled when he worked out the number. The Iron Bank of Braavos had loaned just over three-and-a-half-million dragons over the last few years, leaving Petyr with more than enough money. Of course he had never given the crown treasury much of the loans as he had diverted much of the funds to his own coffers. Robert Baratheon and Jon Arryn had been none the wiser of his true activities, much to his own amusement. And as far as the Iron Bank was concerned the debt was the crown's, not his. Petyr looked over to Lothor who was sat beside Oswell Kettleblack, an old white haired man-at-arms who has served Petyr for quite a while now. Both men are loyal enough but Petyr has them both keeping an eye on each other, without either of them knowing that they are watching each other.

"Lothor, what have your friends said recently?" he asked. "Anything of note that I should be aware of?" Lothor Brune shook his head with a grunt.

"Nothing my lord," he said. "They seem to be quiet at the moment, almost as if they are afraid that they will be gifted red smiles should they show their faces." Petyr sighed in annoyance at this before turning to Oswell.

"What about you Oswell, what are your sons saying just now?" he asked. The old man-at-arms wiped his fingers over his wind burnt face before giving his answer.

"None of my sons have been able to get in touch with me, not since Osney got himself into trouble at Gulltown," he answered. Petyr raised a brow at that little piece of news.

"What has he done now?" he asked. Oswell straightened up in his seat before he spoke.

"Had a little scuffle with some blasted labourer over a bloody whore," he told Petyr. "Osney took a fancy to her and tried to bed her, but the idiot threw his fist at my lad, so the two of them got into a brawl. My other two are trying to get him out of the cells just now, but the gaolers at the prison are not budging just now. Apparently they are new gaolers who have not yet been told about you." Petyr gave Oswell a reassuring smile while he felt angry with the man's son for his stupidity.

"I'll see to it that they know who actually pays their wages, and if that doesn't budge them then I'm sure Lord Grafton can deal with them," he told Oswell. The man-at-arms nodded his head in answer, and Petyr looked between both men. "So at this moment in time we are severely disadvantaged. No news, no more business opportunities, and little to no income." He shook his head, doing his best to hide his annoyance. "I feel like I am being taken for a fool. And as both of you should know, I do not like being taken for a fool. Now..." Petyr was interrupted when the door to his solar burst open as a young servant rushed in.

"Many pardons milord," the servant said. "A... gentleman of questionable repute is here claiming that you wish to see him." Petyr huffed, no longer caring to hide his annoyance. _This better be Xallo here to see me_ , he hoped as he stood up.

"Well then, let's see what this questionable fellow wants, shall we?"

Petyr followed the youth who led them outside his tower where a group of pirates were stood. Lothor and Oswell were with him, as well as a dozen guards and ten sellswords. The servant stopped a few yards away from the pirate, who Petyr recognised as Berros, Xallo's second-in-command. The pirate had a long beard that was dyed a deep blue and styled into four prongs, while the hair on his head was its natural brown colour. His dark eyes gleamed with irritation as he watched Petyr approach. Standing next to Berros were eight other pirates, all looking quite grizzled and one or two sporting what looked like new scars.

"Berros, I did not expect to see you here for some time," Petyr said, though in truth he had expected to see Xallo a few weeks ago. "Where is good Captain Xallo? He has something for me that I paid an awful lot of money for." Berros gave Petyr a toothless smile that seemed to be full of hate.

"Xallo's dead Lord Baelish," the pirate answered. "We tried raiding some Pentoshi ship, but Xallo fell to a bloody knight who happened to be onboard. Once he died I got everyone else to leave the ship and we sailed for here as soon as was possible. However while we sailed here we had ourselves a little mutiny. Aside from my fellows beside me here there are only a dozen and a half men left." Petyr shook his head at this, trying not to look too disappointed.

"That is quite the problem Berros," he said. "Tell me though, do you still have Xallo's prize with you?" The pirate snorted before spitting onto the ground.

"You mean that cursed Valyrian sword? Nope, the knight who killed Xallo claimed it," Berros answered. "We took a captive who told us that the knight was one of a couple of twins from the Reach who were going back home after escaping King's Landing." Petyr's eyes widened as he realised who this knight could well be; either one of the Redwyne twins, who Cersei was holding prisoner at the Red Keep to stop Lord Paxter from sailing for Renly. Of course the Redwyne twins had escaped several days before Petyr was forced to leave King's Landing himself. _How did one of those buffoons manage to gain a sword held by an old pirate? I thought those boys were completely inept at everything besides breathing_? he wondered.

"Well, that is a pity," Petyr began as he stroked his chin beard carefully, eyeing the pirates up carefully. "But as it happens I have a good idea of who that knight was, and so now you will have your new job." Berros spat at the ground again before glaring at Petyr.

"You can stick your job and go fuck yourself Baelish," he snapped. "I'm not going to risk life and limb for some stuck up lesser lord over a poxy sword that is known to be cursed. When we got that blade Xallo was told that it were a cursed blade. Fucks sake, some idiot even called it Luck's Bane. What kind of name is that for a sword anyway? And its previous owners all died within a year of taking the damn thing. So no, I ain't laying a finger on it or going anywhere near wherever it is." Petyr sighed at the pirate's angry words. "So now you can give us our coin and we'll be buggering off out of here, you understand me?" Petyr folded his arms and nodded his head.

"Oh I understand you alright," he said before turning his head to look at Lothor. "Let's pay the man, shall we?" he said. Lothor nodded his head before turning to the guards, barking commands at them. Petyr turned to face Berros and smiled at him. "Your payment, for a poorly done job." He watched with satisfaction as the pirates faces showed shock and horror, and a second later the crossbows that Petyr's men held loosed off their shots. All nine pirates fell as quarrels hit them, sending them sprawling over the ground. Petyr continued to watch as Lothor and three other men wandered over and slashed the throats of the dying men. After they were done Petyr turned around to face Oswell. "Have some men go to their ship and deliver the rum that I had set aside for them. You know which one I mean."

"Will do milord," Oswell said with a bow before he walked off.

Several hours later Petyr was lying down in his bed after being told of how the pirates that were left aboard the ship had fallen ill after consuming the rum. Oswell had given them the rum and told them that Berros and his men were still sorting out their payment, and best of all the fools believed the story. _Pirates. They'll believe anything when you offer them drink_ , he thought. The rum he had given them was laced with several different poisons, all of which were fatal and resulted in the ship crew dying rather unpleasant deaths. The manner of killing the pirates was somewhat satisfying, especially after being informed of their failure. He had hoped to get the Valyrian steel sword as his main prize, but thanks to the greed common to all pirates it was lost to him. Still he had secured all of the other treasures and valuables that the pirates had taken since being sent on their quest. Petyr drifted off to sleep on a full belly and slept peacefully. When he woke up it was the start of a new day, yet the day would be long and repetitive. So it was for nearly a week when a letter had arrived from Lysa.

Petyr was just finishing his breakfast when a servant brought him a letter that was sent by raven. He took the letter and finished his meal before opening it and reading its contents.

 **Petyr my love,**

 **You must come to me at once. Cersei knows about what we did, and I fear that she will tell my sister. I know that Cat will not betray me but her husband might know the truth once he sees it. Please ride to the Eyrie and help me. The Lords of the Vale refuse to listen to me and have declared Eddard as their King. I do not know what to do. Help me, please.**

 **Your true love,**

 **Lysa**

Petyr felt a shudder run through him them as he read the letter for a second time. If what she wrote was true then he was in greater danger than before. _Ned Stark, a King? Well that doesn't bode well_ , he thought. Petyr for the first time in a long while felt pure fear run through him. _If he ever sets his eyes on me I am as good as dead. I doubt he would even entertain the idea of sending me off to the Wall. The sensible thing to do would be to leave the Vale and sail across the Narrow Sea, but then what? Summon sellswords to lend assistance? Hire the Faceless Men? Find the Targaryen girl and offer to restore her family to the Iron Throne_? After thinking about it that last one was a good possibility for him. He could marry her so long as her husband was dead, assuming that she was still alive of course, and then once she has birthed a son and they have retaken the Iron Throne he could remove her from the picture and organise the founding of his own dynasty. _And if she's dead I can always gather more help around Braavos, such as the Faceless Men_ , he decided.

Petyr stood up and walked outside, his mind made up. He found his staff and gave them orders to move all of his belongings to his new ship. The pirates were dead, and Petyr had already hired a new crew a short while ago, so all he needed to do was get onboard and sail away. Lothor approached him and waited for him to tell him what to do while Petyr gave out his orders. Eventually Petyr looked at him.

"It's time for us to leave Westeros for a short time," he told him. "My plans are not working out just now, and I need to consolidate elsewhere. Can I trust you to help me?" Lothor gave Petyr a short bow.

"Always my lord," he answered.

"Good," Petyr replied before turning to Oswell who had just arrived a moment ago.

"Milord, is there anything else that you require?" he asked.

"Yes Oswell. Tell me is Osney out of prison yet?" Petyr had sent word to Lord Grafton about wanting Osney released from prison and had yet to receive a reply. Oswell nodded his head in answer though, and Petyr knew that he was able to tie up the loose ends that needed tying up. "Send word to him, and tell him that I have need of him at the Eyrie." Oswell nodded his head slowly, no doubt wondering why Petyr wanted Osney there.

"And what is my lad to do there milord?" he asked eventually. Petyr leaned over and quietly told him what he wanted Osney to do. Oswell looked at him with wide eyes then. "That is risky, but he'll see it done milord, you have my word." Oswell wandered off then, leaving Petyr with Lothor who was looking at him with a raised brow.

"Do I wish to know why my lord?" was all he asked. He had heard what Petyr had said, but he would not repeat the words.

"Trust me Lothor, the less you know, the better for you," Petyr said as they walked to where his new ship was anchored off. It took them an hour to get to where the ship was, and they saw the crew that Petyr had hired hard at work shifting the heavy supplies around. They watched as the crew did their job with preparing the ship for sailing, all the while aware of the gathering small folk who would no doubt begin to gossip once they leave. _I'll need to make sure they stay silent_ , he realised. "Lothor, do me a favour would you?" he asked. Lothor looked at him with a look of concern.

"Yes my lord?"

"The small folk here will no doubt talk about this once we are gone," he said. "Could you make sure that they don't?" Lothor looked over to the small folk in question and nodded his head.

"Pirates take advantage of war all the time, attacking innocents when they know that they can get away with it," Lothor said as he walked off, waving some of his men over to him.

After half an hour Petyr was climbing up onto the ship, the crew going about their work while off in the distance small folk screamed as they were cut down. Petyr walked along the deck while looking towards the shore, watching the guardsmen wandering back with bloodstained swords. Lothor was at the front with Oswell walking not too far away from him. Petyr leaned over the top, looking down at the water as it splashed against the hull. He was lost in his thoughts while Lothor and Oswell climbed onto the ship, followed by their men. Soon the ship began to sail, heading for Essos. Petyr went below deck with Lothor and Oswell behind him. They entered the cabin and sat down.

"I have sent a messenger to my sons milord," Oswell said as he fidgeted in his seat. "Osney will do as you have asked. He may not like the command but he will do as he is told." Petyr gave Oswell a firm look before nodding his head.

"I am glad," he said. "It's ugly business, but it needs to be done sadly. Speaking of ugly business I must thank you Lothor for taking care of the small folk. I think it's high time that I reward you for your loyalty." Lothor looked at Petyr then, his eyes betraying nothing.

"I did as I was bid, there is no need to reward me," he said. Petyr stood up and walked to the cabinet on the other side of the room.

"Still, I did promise you a suitable reward for serving me loyally, and I aim to keep that promise." Petyr lifted out the sword that was in the cabinet and passed it to Lothor, who looked stunned to see Lady Forlorn in his hands. "Once we are at Braavos we can find a blacksmith to change the hilt so as to not arouse suspicion from the Corbrays when we return to Westeros. A fitting reward, do you not think?" Lothor looked at Petyr after examining the blade and nodded his head.

"A fine reward, my lord," he agreed.

"Splendid," Petyr responded. "Now, let's relax for now, shall we? We have a long journey ahead before we reach Braavos, and plenty of time to plan our next move." With that the three men sat down at the table and after an hour or so they ate their dinner. With dinner done they set about going over their stores and supplies before getting some rest for the night. _It'll be a long voyage_ , Petyr thought bitterly. _I hope things will improve for me once we get to Braavos_.

* * *

Elia

The sand steeds whinnied as they came to a stop in the courtyard of Sunspear. Elia turned her head at the familiar sound to find a group of men dismounting their horses. One of the steeds was a stallion which had a beautiful black coat with a mane and tail the colour of fire. Its rider had already dismounted, but Elia did not need to see the rider to know who it was. She ran over to the stallion and gently rubbed his snout with her hand before walking around it and throwing her arms around the rider.

"Welcome home father," she said to the man who chuckled. Oberyn Martell returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around her.

"Hello child," he said. "You've been riding again, haven't you?" Elia smiled slightly at her father's observation. Her mother often despaired at her fondness of horse riding, especially as she would often come back smelling like a horse. On days when she spends all of her time with her horse she smells of a stable, according to her mother. To Elia there was nothing better than riding a horse, and jousting. At thirteen she was an accomplished rider, and was quite skilled with a lance as well. Stepping back from her father she looked at the other riders and noticed that there were fewer men than had left with him when he rode for the Riverlands. She also noticed that her sisters were missing.

"Where's Nym? Where is Obara?" she asked. Oberyn sighed before grabbing her braid and throwing it casually over her shoulder.

"They are still at Riverrun my dear," he said. "They chose to stay behind as Dorne's representatives to the Stark King's court." Elia blinked at that, suddenly remembering hearing of the Northern Declaration that Eddard Stark had sent out across Westeros.

"So it's true then? There is a King in the North once more?" she asked. Oberyn smiled widely at her before stepping aside to speak to one of his men. As he moved Elia saw a man who was blindfolded and bound being pushed along by Martell guardsmen. "Father, who's that man there?" she asked, pointing at the prisoner. She looked at her father and saw that his eyes had darkened with anger; the kind of anger that Elia knew meant that he had murder on his mind.

"Do not worry yourself over him child," he answered. "You will find out later on, either today or tomorrow. I need to find your uncle, we have much to discuss. I'll see you later."

"But father..." she began, only for Oberyn to look at her with frustration in his eyes.

"Elia," he said sharply, his eyes hardening once again. Elia looked at her father's eyes and saw the pain and sadness, which she knew would give way to anger soon.

"Yes father," she replied, her voice quiet and defeated. "I'll see you later." She saw him nod his head before she began to turn away. As she did she felt a hand grab her shoulder gently to keep her still before feeling her father kiss her forehead.

"We'll talk later child," he said before walking into the Old Palace. Elia walked away, guiding her father's sand steed to the stables after slapping the stable boy's hand away.

Elia took her father's stallion to its stall and began to clean and groom him, thoroughly brushing his coat, mane and tail before sorting out his feed. As she groomed the horse, falling into a routine that for her was as simple as breathing, Elia allowed her mind to wander. _Why must he always be sad when he speaks my name_? she thought, blinking her eyes to stop them watering. _Why did he name me for my aunt if doing so only made him sad and angry? It's not fair_! Elia often wondered why her father chose to name her for his beloved sister Elia Martell. She only learned of the true story after her ninth nameday, when her father finally felt that it was time to tell her of her namesake and her children, Elia's cousins. Her namesake was her father's elder sister who was said to be kind and sweet, especially to her loved ones. Princess Elia Martell had married Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and birthed his children, a girl named Rhaenys who was said to have her mother's dark hair and eyes, and a boy named Aegon who had his father's Valyrian looks. Not long after little Aegon's birth Rhaegar Targaryen had taken some Northern girl and started a war that saw him killed in battle, and also resulted in Elia's aunt and cousins being murdered. Rhaenys was said to have been stabbed half-a-hundred times while Aegon had his skull shattered against a wall. The same man who killed Aegon then raped and murdered Elia Martell while his hands were still slick with Aegon's blood. What made it worse, Oberyn had said, was that they were still children; Rhaenys only a girl of three while Aegon had not even seen his first nameday. Watching her father tell her the story of her namesake was heartbreaking for Elia as he had spoken with tears in his eyes and anger in his voice. It pained her to no end that what happened to his beloved sister haunted Oberyn even to this day.

After feeding the stallion Elia sat down and sighed, rubbing her hands down her breeches. She had had a lovely day earlier, taking her sand steed out for a ride through the Shadow City to the west of Sunspear before having a brief dip in the sea. She had been happy, but now her father was back and instead of being happy she was grumpy. Grumpy that her father had to see Uncle Doran first; grumpy that he would rather not tell her more about what was happening; grumpy because she knew that if she spoke to her mother about it that she would side with Oberyn. As she let out a loud sigh she suddenly found a pair of hands cover her eyes.

"Guess who?" came the sultry voice of her eldest cousin.

"Arianne!" Elia said in annoyance. "Why do you always do that? You know I hate it." She stood up when her cousin took her hands away and turned to face her. Her buxom cousin had her long thick black hair loose, falling to the middle of her back in ringlets as was her preference. She wore a flowing silk gown with many jewels around her forearms, neck and fingers. The gown was tight enough to make her large breasts look as if they were about to burst out. She even wore her most seductive smile, Elia noticed.

"Oh don't be such a bore Elia," Arianne said with a laugh, stepping closer and placing an affectionate kiss on her cheek. "Your father has come home and has a very... _special_... guest to introduce." Elia rolled her eyes.

"I know Arianne, I saw him earlier when he arrived, which should've been obvious to you seeing as his stallion is right behind me in his stall," she retorted. Her cousin tutted in mock annoyance, shaking her head slightly before putting her hands on her hips.

"Oh come on Elia, I'm just playing with you," she said. "Anyway, you'll want to go and have a bath and dress up nice. My father has decided to make an announcement in regards to this blasted war going on, so you best be looking pretty." Elia looked at Arianne with wide eyes, folding her arms in front of her and cocking her head to the side.

"Since when does Uncle Doran care about how I smell?" she asked. Arianne laughed loudly, a shrill laugh that grated on Elia's ears.

"Since Ellaria told him that you smelled of horse shit little cousin," she said. "Now come on." With that Arianne grabbed Elia by her arm and dragged her out of the stable. "Tyene is waiting for you. She will help you look pretty. And by pretty I mean not looking or smelling like a horse, though personally I think that's the only way that you can look pretty." Elia smiled despite herself.

"Stop trying to cheer me up Arianne," she told her.

"Why, is it working?" Arianne replied with a smirk.

Twenty minutes later Elia found herself being stripped naked by Arianne and her elder golden haired sister Tyene before being forced into a bath. Elia grumbled about being bathed just for a blasted meeting where she would not be standing with her trueborn cousins. _I'm a bastard, so what does it matter_? she thought. She was grateful though that the dress that Tyene picked out for her was a rather plain pale green one and not a silly frilly pink thing that would make her look more like someone from a mummers troupe. After spending fifteen minutes being scrubbed clean by Tyene, with Arianne just standing around by the vanity looking at the various bottles of perfumes that Elia personally found to be foul, Elia was climbing out of the tub and being dried. After she was dry Tyene helped her to put the dress on before letting her secure her dagger around her ankle. Arianne approached with a bottle in her hands, and Elia glared at her.

"If you dare come near me with that, I'll put horse shit into your wardrobe, your bed and wherever else I feel like stuffing it," she warned her, earning a mischievous giggle from her.

"As if I would ever be cruel to you Elia," she said.

"Come now sister," Tyene said. "We can't have your hair smelling of horse now can we?" Elia grunted in annoyance, but she found that she could not argue with Tyene.

"Fine," she spat. "Only a small amount, and keep it away from my face." Ten minutes later, as the sickly smelling perfume was starting to make Elia feel like she would empty her bowels, the door opened to Areo Hotah, Uncle Doran's captain of the guards.

"Prince Doran is ready for you Princess Arianne," the Norvosi said, his longaxe gripped tightly in his hands. Arianne smiled sweetly at him.

"Lead the way Areo," she said. Elia and Tyene walked behind their cousin as they were led to the hall where the announcement was to be made. Once they entered the hall Arianne made her way to sit beside her father, the ruling Prince of Dorne. As his eldest child Arianne was his heir, as is the custom in Dorne; in Dorne the Rhoynar laws of inheritance take precedence, allowing women to become the heads of their Houses. Despite that Elia has heard her elder sisters talking about how Arianne would grumble about Uncle Doran plotting to make Quentyn his heir instead. _Uncle Doran would not do that to her_ , she thought. _Not without a damn good reason anyway_. As Arianne took her seat by her father, Quentyn and Trystane sat down on their father's opposite side. Elia found herself being guided by Tyene to the table just to the left of where her uncle's table was, where her mother Ellaria was sitting with her younger sisters; Obella was sitting next to their mother wearing a light blue dress with cream coloured sleeves, with a small smile on her eleven year old face; six year old Dorea was fidgeting in her seat with a scowl on her face, no doubt unhappy that she was not allowed to have her morning star at the table; five year old Loreza was being held in their mother's arms, giggling as Ellaria tickled her sides.

Elia walked over to where her mother and sisters were and sat herself between her mother and Obella, with Tyene joining her as well. When they were sat down Ellaria leant over and kissed her cheek.

"Hmm, not too bad this time," she said with a smile, no doubt inferring to Elia's normal odour. Elia managed to not roll her eyes and instead gave her mother a smile. A few moments later she saw her father enter the hall, and then everyone fell silent. Oberyn walked up to the high table where Prince Doran was sat, with Areo Hotah stood behind him with that longaxe of his held at the ready. Elia watched as her father stopped before the table and nodded his head to his elder brother.

"Prince Oberyn, my brother," Doran began, his voice loud so all could hear. "I trust that you bring us good news?" Elia's father gave her uncle a wide smile. He clicked his fingers, summoning a squire who had a bag in his hands, and answered his brother.

"I have treated with the Starks at Riverrun," Oberyn declared. "While I could not speak with Robb Stark as he had marched out to attack the Westerlands I did speak with his father Eddard, who as you no doubt are already aware has been named as the King in the North." The various nobles gathered throughout the hall started to murmur as Oberyn's words sank in. After a moment they fell silent, allowing him to continue. "I can also tell you that the Riverlords and the Lords of the Vale have pledged him fealty, making him King of the Trident and of the Vale as well. And more importantly he has offered us an alliance to bring justice upon Tywin Lannister and his ilk." Elia sat up straighter in her seat then, waiting for her father to continue. "Tywin Lannister rots in a cell beneath Riverrun, along with his sons the Kingslayer and the Imp. His henchman Gregor Clegane is dead." Oberyn spoke with a touch of venom at the mention of the name of his sister's killer, but afterwards his eyes seemed to light up. "The Mountain that Rides was slain at the Humbling by one Ser Wylis Manderly, who I am told had driven his lance into the beast's side. I saw his head myself and have been told by all that I asked that it was indeed our Princess Elia's murderer who had been slain." The squire held out the bag to Oberyn then, who put his hand into it and a moment later pulled out the skull of a man; Elia noticed that the skull was larger than that of any other normal person.

"Our sister has been avenged then?" Doran asked.

"Elia and her son Aegon can now rest in peace, now that justice has been done," Oberyn said as he handed the skull to a Martell guardsman before clicking his fingers again. "Also, as part of our agreement, we have been delivered the murderer of our niece Rhaenys." Two guardsmen brought in the man that Elia saw earlier, who was struggling as he was dragged in. The man was quite portly, with a pale piggy face and thinning hair. When he spoke, demanding the guards to unhand him, his voice was high and thin. "Amory Lorch, the murderer of Rhaenys Targaryen," Oberyn said. Lorch looked back at him and glared, his pig-like eyes full of cruelty.

"That's _Ser_ to you you Dornish shit," the man spat.

"Now now Ser Amory," Doran spoke, holding up a hand to silence him. "There is no need for bad manners, especially in my hall. No doubt you know who I am?" Lorch did not answer, and Elia thought for a second that he would remain quiet until he spat onto the floor in front of him.

"Go fuck your-" his answer was silenced by the guard on his left punching him in the gut.

"I am the Lord of Sunspear and the ruling Prince of Dorne," Doran continued as if he had not just been cursed at. "I also happen to be the uncle of a lovely little girl who you brutally murdered sixteen years ago. Rhaenys should have been celebrating her nineteenth nameday just over a fortnight ago. Perhaps she would have been celebrating with a husband and child of her own. But you took that from her. Here in Dorne we despise those who bring harm to children." Elia watched as the false knight stared at her uncle with what she could only think was total disgust in his eyes.

"I only did my duty to my liege," he spat. "As a knight I am bound by oath to serve my liege lord and to follow his orders. Lord Lannister commanded me to kill the whelp. If she hadn't kicked me then her death would've been kinder." Elia was sickened by the man's words. She wanted nothing more than to walk up to him and slit his throat with her dagger, but she felt her mother's hand grabbing her wrist and a moment later heard her telling her to calm down. _Is my anger that obvious_?

"So you admit that Lord Tywin ordered the deaths of my sister and her children?" Doran asked. Lorch just laughed, a short and cruel laugh that sent a shiver up Elia's back.

"Aye, that he did," he said. "And if he told me to do it again then I would."

"You are no true knight!" someone in the crowed shouted out.

"I don't care what some goat fucker thinks," Lorch retorted. "I have the same rights as any knight, and as I know that whatever trial you would hold would only see me dead I demand the right to a trial by combat." The entire hall fell silent then as all eyes turned to Doran. Elia could not read her uncle's expression, but she did see the smirk on her father's face. _You wanted him to do that, didn't you father_? she thought. After a short time Doran spoke.

"As a knight you do indeed have that right, though as has been said you are no true knight," he said. "A true knight would never harm a child even when ordered to. His oaths to defend the innocent would stay his hand. But nevertheless I shall grant you that right. Would you like a champion or shall you fight yourself?" Lorch sneered at Doran.

"I'll fight my bloody self," he said. Elia shifted in her seat before looking back at her uncle.

"Very well. The trial shall be held on the morrow. Who will fight for Dorne?" As Elia expected her father stepped forward, a malicious grin on his face. _You stupid fool Lorch_ , Elia thought with a grin. _You've just got yourself a more painful death_.

"I shall fight him brother," Oberyn said, "for Elia, her children, and Dorne." Doran nodded his head and waved his hand, and Lorch was dragged away to the cells. After the false knight was gone Elia looked to Tyene who was smirking.

"Did you know of this Tyene?" Elia asked. Tyene looked at her and smiled widely. The smile was one of innocence, but her eyes betrayed her more devious nature.

"How else would I be able to make sure that I have everything that I need when I go to help prepare his last meal tomorrow?" she said playfully. Elia smiled at her sister's words, knowing that she would likely slip in a poison that would make Lorch fight poorly.

"No doubt you'll make him ill on the morrow," Elia said. Tyene tutted at her in response.

"My cooking is absolutely perfect Elia," she said, her voice feigning offence rather perfectly. After their conversation ended Doran clapped his hands to get the attention of everyone in the room.

"With justice having been served for my sister Elia and her son Aegon, and justice to be served for her daughter Rhaenys tomorrow, we must now take this opportunity to ensure justice is done properly," he stated. "With the offer for an alliance with the North and their allies of the Riverlands and the Vale, the time has now come for Dorne to enact her vengeance against the Lannisters. For many years you have all wanted me to strike back in answer to my sister's murder. For many years I have urged caution and asked you to wait for the perfect time. Well my brothers and sisters of Dorne, that time has now come for us." Doran reached for his wine cup and raised it high, and everyone else in the hall took up their own cups as well. "Tomorrow we shall see my brother triumph over Amory Lorch. And the day after we march to the Westerlands and help the Young Wolf and his father to defeat the Lannisters. The days of the rule of the Iron Throne are now done. Dorne no longer answers to those north of us, but we will stand shoulder to shoulder with those who will help us gain justice. And when the Lannisters lay ruined at our feet, they and all others who fight against us will know, that we are forever unbowed, unbent, unbroken." Everyone in the hall cheered, their voices so loud that Elia thought she would go deaf.

The nobles drank from their cups and Uncle Doran called for a feast to commence. Food was served to everyone, and Elia helped herself to the food that was on offer. As she ate Elia occasionally looked at her father to see him speaking with Doran, who he spoke with for a good ten minutes. Elia was annoyed that her father was still talking with him, but she decided to just focus on her food. As she helped herself to a leg of spiced lamb Oberyn finally sat down beside her mother, leaning over to kiss her before speaking with them.

"Doran has agreed to let me lead the first ten-thousand spears," he said. Elia felt a surge of worry go through her then. She looked at him and saw the serious look in his eyes. "More men will follow me over the next few months."

"How will you get those men through the Reach father?" Elia asked him. Oberyn looked at her with a reassuring smile on his face.

"You let me worry about that," he answered. "Despite everything our merchants are still making good coin, and they need their guards to look after them. A war is a good reason to provide even more guards for traders caravans." Elia gave a slight smile before returning to her food. She had barely gotten her first mouthful in when her father spoke to her again. "Elia, I know you worry for me," he said. "But you need never worry. When I go to war you will stay here with your mother and younger sisters, while Tyene will travel with me. I expect that I will meet up with the Young Wolf when I arrive outside Lannisport, which won't happen for quite a while. But you will stay and help your mother look after your sisters." Elia finished her mouthful of food before responding.

"But father I want to go with you," she said insistently. "I can ride like I was born in the saddle, I can defend myself with a dagger, I can even fight with a lance."

"A lance is only good on the initial charge my girl," Oberyn said. "In the swirling melee of battle a dagger is only good as an off hand weapon. You need a proper weapon like a sword or spear, and you are not skilled in such yet." Elia looked down at the table in front of her, annoyed that her father was right.

"It's not fair," she said, her voice quiet.

"El," Obella spoke, her hand coming to rest on her shoulder. "Papa knows best with fighting," she said. Elia looked at her little sister, who gave her a cute smile. "And you promised me that you would teach me more about horse riding." Elia sighed at that, knowing that she would not get the chance to argue with her father and win now that her sister was pressuring her to stay.

"Obella is right child," her father said. "It's time for her to learn to ride a horse properly." Elia looked at her father and saw her mother beside him with a look of despair on her face.

"Lover, really?" she said in exasperation. "You'd have Obella spend all of her time in the stables?" Oberyn just grinned before looking back at Ellaria.

"I'll have her spend time with her elder sister and learn about horse riding, and it'll keep our Elia out of trouble too," he said. Elia smiled despite herself, knowing that her father was right and not being happy about it either.

"Very well," she said. "I'll stay put. But next time you have to leave Dorne I _will_ go with you. And you won't stop me." Oberyn looked at her with a sly grin.

"That would not be the first time that you made such a declaration child," he said. "And if I get my way, which I always do, it won't be the last either." Elia smiled before looking back at her food and eating. She felt her father kissing her brow a moment later, and then she focused on her thoughts afterwards. _So you say father_ , she thought with a slight grin. _You'll win this time, but next time I will go with you. And you won't stop me from going_.

* * *

Catelyn

"Halt! Who would pass the Bloody Gate?" the voice shouted from the top. Catelyn looked up from her horse at the men stationed at the gate that guards the only sure way to enter the Vale of Arryn on land. From beside her Ned rode a little further forward and looked up at the guards.

"Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and King in the North and the Trident and the Vale!" he shouted up to the man. "With me is Lord Yohn Royce of Runestone, who can confirm my words!" Lord Royce rode up beside Ned and looked up at the man as well.

"You know me ser!" he bellowed. "Now open the Bloody Gate!" After a few moments the gate opened up and Catelyn followed her husband as they rode through into the Vale. Their escort was three-hundred-and-fifty men strong, more than enough to deter any Vale Clansmen from attacking, not that any would want to after so many were killed during the Humbling. Catelyn rode beside Ned and Lady Waynwood, who had her sons beside her as well, while Theon hung further back, looking on with a look of wonder on his face, no doubt remembering the stories that Ned would tell the children about his time in the Vale. The journey from Riverrun to the Vale was thankfully quick and uneventful, although everyone was nervous of being stopped at the Bloody Gate. However that did not happen, and so Catelyn found herself looking up towards the Eyrie once again.

It took the large group half a day to travel to the Gates of the Moon, where they were greeted by Lord Yohn Royce's cousin Lord Nestor Royce. The cousins spoke with each other for a time after introductions were made while dinner was made ready for them. Catelyn and Ned decided to spend the evening at the castle, neither one of them wishing to travel up the Giant's Lance that night. Catelyn sat down on the foot of the bed having just removed her clothes and put on her night gown while Ned stood by the open window wearing only his breeches. He was looking up towards the Eyrie at the top of the mountain.

"Last time I was here was during the winter before the rebellion," Ned said with a sigh. Catelyn looked up to him as he spoke. "Robert and I..." Ned snorted with laughter before he continued. "We had just raided Jon's cellar which had been stocked well with plenty of wine. Arbor gold, Dornish red, even Summerwine. We decided to liberate some bottles, and proceeded to get awfully drunk." Catelyn giggled at the thought; the last time she saw Ned drunk was five years ago, when Robb saw his tenth nameday. The children had been sent to bed and Ned decided to drink a little bit more with his lords. Bran was only three then, and Rickon not yet conceived. That night Ned stumbled into her bed chambers and took his clothes off, and before long they were making passionate love to each other. That was only the second time Catelyn saw her husband drunk; the first time was the night that she was certain he had gotten her pregnant with Sansa.

"I would say that I could never see you drunk Ned, but that would be wrong," she told him with a smile. Ned looked back at her and gave her a warm smile.

"The next morning, Robert and I staggered into the great hall just as they were serving breakfast," Ned continued. "Bacon does not smell half as good as when you are suffering from having drunk too much the night before. Anyway, the servants are all being quiet as they go about their duties, while the guards are muttering to themselves and quietly laughing while pointing at us. Ten minutes later Jon walks in and just sits down across from us, looking at us with his usual stern face. Robert looks at me and I just know that we are in for it." Ned walked over to the bed and sat down beside Catelyn. "He looks from me to Robert and just leans back in his chair, his arms folded. After a minute I go to take a bite of my food, and then Jon whispers to us, "Are you alright lads?" We both just look up at him and nod our heads in answer. But then Jon shakes his head, leans forward, and as loud as possible he shouts, "I'M BLOODY SURPRISED THAT YOU'RE BOTH FINE AFTER RAIDING MY CELLAR!" and Robert and I both clutch our ears as pain shoots through us." Ned begins to laugh at the fond memory, and Catelyn joins him in his laughter.

"I find it somewhat ridiculous that you would ever get up to mischief," she said after she stopped laughing. Ned smiled at her and leaned back a little bit.

"Where do you think our children get their mischievous streak from?" he asked her. "You've always been well behaved from what I know." Catelyn smiled as she leaned against Ned, resting her head on his shoulder. A moment later she feels his arm wrapping around her back, his hand clutching her side. The feel of his hand was relaxing, soothing even.

"I haven't always been well behaved," she told him as she got comfortable. "When I was still a little girl my father had to get a septa to sit with me at meal times. You know Sansa gets her fondness of lemon cakes from me. Well I used to gorge myself on them at every opportunity, even refusing to eat properly unless I knew that there were lemon cakes to be served after. Sometimes I even snuck into the kitchens to steal one or two for myself." Ned chuckled as she spoke.

"You, stealing cakes? Gods be good Cat, it sounds like you are telling me about some stranger." Catelyn laughed slightly before she continued.

"After a while it was becoming rather obvious that I was having a lot more than my fair share of lemon cakes. I think the size of my belly was giving it away," she said with a giggle. "So after a long time my father had people watch me wherever I went, and the staff soon reported that they saw me stealing cakes and eating more than I should've had. So after giving me a stern talking to, or as stern as was possible for my father when it came to dealing with me, every meal I spent in the company of a septa, from that day until after my... must have been my sixteenth nameday by the time my septa stopped sitting with me at every meal." Ned chuckled as he pulled Catelyn closer to him, rubbing his hand up and down her side.

"Was that the only time you have ever misbehaved Cat?" he asked her after pressing a kiss to her forehead. Catelyn looked up at him and smiled.

"Not the only time," she admitted before kissing him back.

The two of them climbed into the bed properly before they continued to talk about their more fond childhood memories. They spoke for a long time before falling silent and trying to drift off to sleep. Catelyn lay with her head against Ned's chest, her eyes open as she thought about her family. She wondered how Robb was doing over in the Westerlands, hoping that he was safe and not taking too many risks. _He has his father's mindset_ , she thought. _He spends time with his men and their heirs, and fights alongside them in the thick of battle_. Catelyn remembered the feelings of anxiety and dread she felt during the Humbling, wondering if Robb would be fine or if he would be killed. She remembered the relief she felt when Robb rode back to her, his armour drenched in blood from the battle and being followed by a cart with a captive Tywin Lannister in it. She then thought of her girls. Sansa spent as much time with her grandfather as she could, often sewing while sitting beside him and occasionally talking with him. Arya spent time with him as well, and would ask him endless questions during his more lucid moments. Catelyn was grateful when her girls came back to her, crying tears of joy at having them back in her arms, and was pleased that they seemed to no longer be fighting each other. She was even happy that they both spent time with Nymeria as well. Despite her relief and joy she was most worried for Arya. _She should never have had to kill that stable boy_ , Catelyn thought. _Ever since coming back to me she seems like a completely different person. She spends most of her time alone or with Jon in that room, practising her swordsmanship_. She started to think about Bran and Rickon, wondering how they were coping without her. Rickon would be four now, and probably still running around Winterfell with wild abandon. Bran would hopefully be on his feet again, though still using a cane to get around. _He hasn't seen me since his fall_ , she realised. _He woke up while I was away from home. He probably resents me for leaving him like that_. Now Catelyn found herself thinking about Jon.

Catelyn found it strange to deal with Jon now that she knows who he really is. She never truly hated him, but she never liked him being near her children. She still felt some bitterness towards Ned for keeping his secret for so long but she could now forgive him fully, now that she knows the reason why he kept quiet about Jon. All this time she has resented Ned, and Jon to a degree, but thinking it over she now resents herself more. _Ned kept his sister's secret for years, keeping Jon safe from Robert and the Lannisters. He sacrificed his own honour for his nephew, his blood. And I've been nothing but horrible to him his whole life_. Before she knew it she felt tears running down her cheeks, and she began to cry.

"Cat?" Ned spoke softly. Catelyn lifted herself up from Ned's chest as he sat up and rolled onto his side. "What's the matter?" he asked as he cupped her cheek.

"I'm such an awful woman," she said in a quiet voice, closing her eyes as Ned pulled her closer to him. She wept quietly into his chest, her tears falling onto his skin. "I can't forgive myself Ned. I can't forgive myself for how I treated Jon." She heard Ned sigh as his hold on her tightened. "All his life I looked down on him, avoided him as much as possible. I've been cruel to him."

"No," Ned said. "No Cat, you haven't been cruel to him. Despite the circumstances you have not been cruel at all. You have not been kind, but you were never cruel." Those words made Catelyn tear up even more. She wrapped her arms around her husband and buried her face into his shoulder, trying to calm herself before she spoke again.

"About ten years ago, Jon found himself in front of me after I caught him up to no good," she said. "I cannot remember what he had done, some childish prank no doubt. But I scolded him harshly. He began to cry, and as he did he asked me why can't _I_ be his mother. I was so angry at that. That he would think a highborn woman like myself would ever let a bastard-born child call them mother. I snapped at him, telling him, "You must never call me that bastard. I am not, and never shall, be your mother." I told him that as he wept after my telling him off." Catelyn's tears ran down her cheeks like a torrent, leaking onto Ned's shoulder. His grip slackened slightly before he gently pushed her back and cupped both of her cheeks, lifting her face up to look into her eyes.

"That was cold," he said. "But that does not make you an awful woman." Catelyn looked into Ned's eyes and saw the pain in them.

"Yes it does Ned," she said. Ned ran his thumb over her lips then.

"No, it doesn't. You said it yourself that you would have been kinder to Jon if you had known the truth about him. All of this is my fault." Catelyn scoffed at that.

"I chose to use those words Ned," she said quietly.

"And you wouldn't have used them if you knew the truth back then," he countered. Catelyn wanted to argue that, but found that she could not. "I am as much to blame as you. I could have told you and to hell with the consequences, but I chose to be quiet on the matter and refuse to speak of it to you. I regret causing you pain Cat, but we can't undo the past. All we can do is move on." Catelyn looked at Ned and nodded her head, wiping her hands over her face. Ned pulled her closer to him and kissed her on the lips.

They sat like that for a short while, kissing their lips as they held onto each other. Ned had one hand on her face and the other travelled down to her side, the fingers stroking the silk of her gown. Catelyn had her hands on his body, her fingers splayed through the hairs on his chest. Their kisses deepened, and before long Ned had pulled Catelyn onto his lap. She felt his manhood bulging through his breeches against the back of her thigh, and after a minute she slid her hands down his chest to the laces of his breeches. As she unlaced them Ned brought both of his hands down to the bottom of her gown, and when Catelyn was done unlacing him Ned pulled her gown up over her body. He threw the silk to the side as Catelyn lifted herself off of Ned's lap, allowing him to pull his breeches off. She helped him to take them off, and when his legs were free she stroked her hand up the inside of his thigh before grabbing his manhood and stroking him gently. Ned grabbed her breasts and squeezed her gently, making her moan softly as his fingertips worked against her skin. Ned groaned as Catelyn stroked his member slowly, feeling him harden even more. Eventually Ned pulled her onto his lap again, and soon she felt him enter her womanhood. Catelyn gasped at the presence of his member pushing against her inner walls, but Ned quickly silenced her with his lips, kissing her slowly as he brought one hand to the back of her head, his fingers brushing through her auburn hair. She felt her hair being wound around his fingers before he tugged his hand down, pulling her head back and exposing her throat to him. Catelyn gasped out in slight shock at the very slight nip of pain on her head before she moaned in pleasure upon feeling first Ned's beard and then his lips and finally his tongue against the soft skin on her throat.

Catelyn moaned and gasped quietly as Ned kissed and licked her neck, her body quivering as she felt Ned pushing himself slowly up into her. Another gasp escaped her mouth then as Ned pulled back and thrust up again. That same pattern continued for a couple of minutes before Catelyn felt Ned lifting them up from the bed. A moment later she felt her back being pressed into the soft bed beneath her, and then Ned lay above her, his eyes boring into hers as he began to thrust at a slow, regular rhythm. She felt her walls getting wetter with every thrust from Ned as she felt more and more aroused with their lovemaking.

"Cat," Ned groaned out as he leant down and kissed her on the lips, pushing his tongue against her closed mouth. She opened to allow him in and soon their tongues danced in her mouth as Ned thrust more and more, driving Catelyn wild with lust. She giggled when Ned's tongue licked the roof of her mouth, before tearing her mouth away from Ned's and gasping for breath.

"Oh Ned," she moaned softly as she felt him thrust hard into her. They held each other close as Ned's thrusts increased in speed to the point that he was pounding her. By that point Catelyn felt incredibly wet, and every movement from her husband brought pure pleasure to her. "Don't stop, please don't stop," she begged him as she buried her face into his shoulder. After a couple more thrusts she bit down on Ned's shoulder as she felt herself tighten around his member. She wrapped her arms around his back, all but digging her nails into him as she brought her legs up and wrapped them around his waist. Now every thrust was more intense. Ned growled out as his pace increased even more, and Catelyn only felt wave after wave of pleasure washing over her before she felt an intense ache between her legs giving way to a wonderful feeling as she came crashing down to her end, soaking Ned's manhood with her arousal as she gave a muffled cry of bliss.

"Bloody hells Cat," Ned growled out as he came to his end, his seed flooding into her as her walls clamped shut around him. After his last twitch Ned all but collapsed onto her before rolling them onto their sides. They stayed like that for a long time, breathing heavily as they kept a tight hold onto each other. "I love you Cat," Ned whispered into her ear, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

"I love you too Ned," she whispered back breathlessly as she pulled her head back and kissed her husband.

After laying entwined for a long time Ned and Catelyn pulled apart and finally fell asleep in each other's arms. Catelyn enjoyed a long dreamless sleep this time; no nightmares of Jon murdering her, or of Ned being killed, or of any of her family coming to harm. When Catelyn woke up the next morning it was to a dull ache between her thighs. She brought her hand down and gently stroked her fingers through the hairs above her entrance before stroking the tips of her fingers against herself, feeling that she was still moist down there. Catelyn smiled to herself as she slowly rose from the bed, only to feel a pair of hands grab her arms.

"And where do you think you're off to?" Ned said to her in a playful tone. Catelyn looked over her shoulder and smiled at him before laying back down beside him.

"To get changed," she answered. "We have a long walk up the Giant's Lance today." Ned rolled himself on top of her, looking down at her.

"Well, we have plenty of time I think," he said before kissing her.

Nearly two hours later the sun was high up in the sky when both Ned and Catelyn walked outside the castle. Their escort were all prepared for the long journey up through the waycastles that guarded the path up to the Eyrie. It would be late in the day before they entered the summer residence of the Arryns, and the road was long and treacherous from what Catelyn remembered. As she looked up to the ancient castle she heard the sound of approaching footsteps off to her left. Turning around she saw Mya Stone walking to her, her short black hair looking an inch or two longer than before. Her deep blue eyes were wide and alert, and a smile graced her face. The young woman who had helped Catelyn on her walk up to the Eyrie the last time that she was here gave her a respectful curtsey, or rather an attempt at one.

"Your grace," she greeted her. "Last time we spoke you were still just Lady Stark. It seems your lot has somewhat improved since then." Catelyn smiled at the woman as she spoke.

"Mya Stone, a pleasure to see you again," she replied. "I trust you'll be helping us up the Giant's Lance?"

"Of course my queen," Mya responded. "'Tis my job after all. Plus I need to get some supplies up to the Eyrie anyway. Does Lady Arryn know that you're here?" Catelyn sighed slightly before looking up at the Eyrie again.

"She probably does now," she muttered. Just then Ned stood beside her, grabbing her hand.

"Are you well Cat?" he spoke quietly, brushing his lips against her ear. Catelyn smiled at him as she faced him.

"Quite," she said before stepping back to let Ned see Mya. "Ned, this is Mya Stone. She's the one who helped me up the path when I was here last time. Mya, this is my husband, King Eddard Stark." Mya looked at Ned with wide eyes before attempting another curtsey.

"Your grace, a pleasure to meet you," she stuttered. "I have heard many great things about you over the years from Lord Nestor Royce." Catelyn looked back at Ned and saw that his own eyes were slightly wide, but soon he nodded his head and spoke to her.

"I'm sure Nestor has told you of some of my more childish antics from when I was a boy being fostered here?" Mya chuckled slightly.

"Oh not at all your grace," she replied. "If you don't mind your grace I have to see to my mules before we start our journey. By your leave." Mya gave a little bow before walking away to her mules. When Catelyn looked back at Ned she saw that he had a thoughtful look in his eyes.

"What is it?" she asked. Ned looked down at her and sighed.

"Do you know who she is?" he asked her. Catelyn shook her head in answer. "That young woman is Robert's eldest child. His first daughter, sired three years before the rebellion. Robert used to care for her before we rode off to fight the Targaryens, but after that I never knew what became of her." Catelyn looked towards the back of the woman who walked away from them, surprised that she did not see it sooner. Mya had indeed looked familiar, but Catelyn just could not think of who she was related to.

"Does she know about her father?" she asked Ned, who sighed before responding.

"I don't know Cat," he said. "I'll speak to her about it once we have spoken to Lysa."

As she expected it took most of the day to ascend the Giant's Lance. When they entered the Crescent Chamber, Catelyn was grateful to receive food and drink from the staff there. Ned stood next to her, eating from the same plate as her, while Lord Yohn and Lady Waynwood organised their men. There were a few dozen men so far, more than enough to match any guards inside the Eyrie. Ned did not think that it would come to violence, but he decided not to take any chances. When Catelyn asked why Ned insisted on the extra guard he simply stated that after his arrest in King's Landing he wanted the reassurance of having men that he knows he can trust. She thought it strange, even silly, as they were only going to see her sister but she said nothing else about it, although the look on Theon's face suggested that he was of the same mind as her. After half an hour Catelyn followed Ned, Theon, Lord Yohn and Lady Waynwood as they entered the High Hall, where the weirwood throne of the Arryns was found. There were some household knights at the far end, and sat on a seat next to the Arryns throne was Lysa. Lysa looked fearful, as if she was expecting the Stranger himself to take her. Her hair was a mess and her eyes looked tired, and seemed to be red. _Has she been crying_? Catelyn wondered. When they were close enough Ned held his hand up to command them to stop.

"Lady Lysa Arryn," Ned began. "I am here to ask if the Vale of Arryn will stand firm alongside their allies from the North and the Riverlands. Tell me where is Lord Robert Arryn?" Lysa looked up at Ned and glared at him.

"You will not take him Stark," she hissed. Catelyn was quite shocked at her younger sister's tone. "I won't let you take my Sweetrobin, I won't! You are not welcome here!"

"My lady, I only wish to speak to him, not as a King who wants his allegiance, but as an uncle who has never met his nephew," Ned said in a kinder voice, his tone soft. Catelyn stepped closer to her husband and took his arm.

"Lysa," she said trying not to sound as unsure as she felt. Lysa was a bit more livelier than this the last time she was here; now she seemed withdrawn, nervous, even panicky. "Sister please, we only need to see Robert, nothing more. We can talk about fostering him once we have assurance that all of the Vale will march with us against the Lannisters." Lysa stood up from her seat sharply, her eyes full of anger.

"How dare you!" she shouted. "I told you before Cat, yes I did! You will not touch Sweetrobin or I'll have you hanged! Guards!" The knights sworn to Lysa moved as one, half-drawing their swords. Catelyn noticed at least one or two were hesitant at following their lady's command. Behind her Catelyn heard the Vale knights under Lord Yohn and Lady Waynwood drawing their own swords, and some of the Northmen had their swords out too. Ned raised his hand and pointed at one of the knights sworn to Lysa.

"You there," he spoke, his voice hard. "Did you serve under Lord Jon Arryn at the battle of the Trident?" The knight in question, who looked older than Ned, nodded his head.

"I did indeed your grace," the knight said. "I even remember when you were still second in line to Winterfell, and were fostered here by Lord Arryn alongside King Robert when he was still just Lord Robert." Catelyn looked back at Ned and saw the very slight smile that disappeared quickly.

"How do you think Lord Jon would react to his widow threatening both his former ward and her own sister with execution?" Ned asked him. The knight stood straighter before sheathing his sword.

"Not very well," he said before turning to look at Lysa. "My Lady Arryn, King Eddard comes here under a banner of peace to secure House Arryn's fealty during this war. He means no harm to our lord, nor does he wish ill upon you. And threatening to execute your sister is not wise. Kinslaying is unforgivable my lady." The knight had spoken with a pleading tone and Lysa looked at the knight sternly before she sank back down in her seat, her head hung. The other knights sheathed their blades, as did everyone else.

"Leave us sers," she said, her voice weak. The household knights walked away then, leaving Lysa unguarded. Ned turned to face Lord Yohn.

"Have your knights stand down my lord," he commanded, speaking with his lord's voice. As Lord Yohn commanded his men to stand down Ned and Catelyn walked over to Lysa, their own Northern guards keeping a respectful distance. Catelyn knelt down in front of Lysa, taking her hands in her own while Ned stood beside them. Looking up at her sister she saw tears streaking her face.

"You must think me a pathetic fool Cat," Lysa whispered. "I'm a terrible mother. I tried Cat, gods I tried, but it's just too much." Lysa wiped a hand over her eyes as her voice broke. "Everything I have done I did for my son. My Sweetrobin. I can't have him taken from me Cat. I lost all of my other babies, it would kill me if you take my boy." Catelyn felt her heart breaking for her sister. _The stress of everything has taken its toll upon her_ , she reasoned.

"Oh Lysa, come here," she said as she pulled her sister into an embrace. "Hush now little sister. Everything will be alright."

"No it won't Cat," Lysa said. "The Lords of the Vale despise me. They think me weak and foolish. They want to take Sweetrobin away from me. Please don't let them, you mustn't let them!" Lysa became hysterical as she wept, and it took Catelyn a lot of patience to calm her down. Looking over her shoulder she saw Lord Yohn with his son Ser Andar and some of their guards talking with Lady Waynwood and a couple of other Vale knights. None of them were paying attention to their conversation. "Cersei has spread lies about me and Petyr," Lysa said then, drawing Catelyn's attention back to her. "She claims that I murdered Jon and has sent word to the Vale lords. Now they are questioning me every day, plotting to remove me and Sweetrobin, I know it." Her voice was suddenly hard as she spoke. Catelyn looked up at Ned and saw him looking down at Lysa sternly before he looked back at Catelyn.

"Cat, take Lysa back to her son and try to calm her down," he said. "I'll speak to Lord Royce and Lady Waynwood about this allegation from Cersei." Catelyn wanted to ask Ned to come with her but she knew that he had to speak with them first. If what Lysa said was true then Ned needed to know more about the lies that Cersei was spreading, and Lysa was in no fit state to tell them much just now. Catelyn nodded her head as she stood up.

"Okay Ned. Do you think the Vale lords might believe Cersei's lies?" she asked quietly. Ned sighed as he put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"It's possible that they will believe it," he said. "Even if they don't it is still a serious allegation that will need to be looked into. I'll speak with them and see what they think of it, and we can decide how to deal with it later. For now though Lysa needs to calm down, and right now you're the best person to try that." Catelyn sighed as she leaned into him and embraced him.

"Very well Ned," she said. Ned kissed her on the forehead briefly before letting her go. They held their hands for a moment before Ned wandered off to speak with Lord Yohn and the rest. Catelyn meanwhile turned to look at Lysa who was looking at the Vale lords with a passive expression. "Come on Lysa, let's go and see Sweetrobin," she said.

Catelyn and Lysa walked out of the High Hall and made their way to Robert's bed chambers in the Moon Tower, with three Northern guardsmen and four household knights following them. Their walk was slow, and Catelyn spent the time talking with Lysa, trying her best to calm her down as they neared Robert's room. They spoke of happier times, before Robert's Rebellion. They spoke of their childhood at Riverrun, remembering making mud pies which Petyr ate (and wound up falling ill as a result of eating them), remembering swimming in the rivers outside the castle when they were little girls, remembering practising kissing with Petyr. Fond memories that made Catelyn miss her childhood more than she thought. For just a few moments she could remember how it felt to be innocent all over again, back before the realities of life weighed down upon them.

"Life was so much simpler back then," Lysa said with a little laugh. "Back before the rebellion, all that mattered to us was having fun and enjoying ourselves while trying not to displease father." Catelyn smiled slightly as she remembered the few times their father scolded her.

"You always ran off and hid whenever we got caught doing mischief," she reminded Lysa, who just laughed some more.

"Well what did you expect, I was always terrified of father when he got angry, even when he wasn't angry with me," she said. "Still, the mud pies will always make me laugh. Ah, poor Petyr. I felt terrible you know, when he was ill over that. He was always so..." Lysa trailed off then, and Catelyn noticed that her face had become more serious.

"Lysa?" she said, a little bit worried that she was remembering a troubling memory. "Lysa what is it?" Lysa looked at her with a cold look in her eyes, a look that sent a shiver up her back.

"I always loved him Cat," she whispered. "I have always loved him even when he claimed to love you. He was..." She hesitated for a moment, a single tear running down her cheek, before she continued. "He took my maidenhead." The admission shocked Catelyn. She never thought that Lysa would ever say something like that even as a jape, but looking at her made it quite clear that she spoke truthfully. "That night, after father announced that you were to wed Brandon Stark, Petyr got drunk after you rejected him and laughed when he tried kissing you after you had shared a dance together. After he was taken to bed I climbed into his bed and we... we made love together. He took me gently, moving so slowly. It felt good." Lysa had a smile on her lips then. "He told me that he loved me again and again, right up until he spilt his seed into me. Even when he mumbled your name I thought nothing of it. I loved him. I still do." Lysa wiped the tear from her cheek and sniffled. "I slept with him until sunrise. I was so happy. We did not share a bed again until after his duel with Brandon. I was so angry at Brandon, and you, when Petyr lay there hurt. I thought that he would die, but he didn't. I helped to nurse him, and during the fortnight after the duel he took me again. I fell pregnant afterwards."

"What?" Catelyn gasped, the confession shocking her more than she already was. Lysa looked at her with sad eyes.

"After father sent Petyr back to the Vale I told him that I was pregnant, hoping that he would call Petyr back and let me marry him," she continued. "But I was wrong. Instead father made me drink moon tea. He made me kill my child. Petyr's child." The tears returned then and Lysa brought her hands up to her face. Catelyn held her sister as she wept again.

"Hush Lysa," she said as she rubbed her hands up and down her back.

"I hate him," Lysa said as she sobbed. "I hate father for making me kill my child. I'll never forgive him for taking away my happiness. That day, when you let me hold Robb after you birthed him, it was too much for me. Not just because you had fallen pregnant and I did not, but because you got to birth your first child whereas I did not. It hurt so much." Catelyn felt tears forming in her eyes then at her sister's sorrow, the admission of what her father had done causing her pain.

Lysa continued to weep while Catelyn did her best to comfort her. They stood there for a good few minutes until Lysa finally calmed down enough, then they started to walk again. They entered the Moon Tower ten minutes later and began to climb the steps, their guards further behind. As they walked Catelyn spoke to Lysa about fostering Robert.

"Why are you so opposed to Robert being fostered Lysa?" she asked. Lysa looked at Catelyn then, her eyes hard for only a moment before softening.

"You have birthed healthy children every time without any problems," she answered. "Robert was the only child of mine to survive birth. Every other child that Jon put into me was either stillborn or a miscarriage. I have endured so much pain that when I finally had Sweetrobin I just could not allow him to be taken away from me. He needs me, and I need him." Lysa looked down at the floor as they walked into the hallway. "I know I sound selfish saying that, but that is how I feel." Catelyn looked at Lysa as they walked, letting her sister guide them. After a moment of silence Lysa looked back at Catelyn with a pained look in her eyes. "I'm sorry for threatening you Cat, I really am. I just... I don't know what to do anymore." Catelyn took Lysa's hand in hers and squeezed her gently.

"Both of you should come with me to Winterfell," she told her. "You need a change from the Eyrie. You can relax at Winterfell with us, and we can let Robert play with his cousins while you are both there." Lysa looked stunned at that.

"But Cat, who will govern the Vale?" she asked.

"Nestor Royce has ruled as High Steward of the Vale for many years has he not?" Lysa nodded in answer. "If he is willing he can rule for longer until Robert comes of age, then Robert can return to the Eyrie as a man grown." Catelyn gave Lysa an encouraging smile as she took both of her sister's hands in her own. "And then Robert will have a pretty wife of his own to give you little grandchildren to fuss over, perhaps a Northern girl or someone from home. Lord Bracken's daughters will have girls of their own at some point, and Lord Brynden Blackwood has a sister only a year or two older than Robert. Or maybe a daughter of the Vale to keep the Vale lords happy." Talking of grandchildren and Robert being a man grown and married seemed to make Lysa happier. She smiled again, a full smile that reminded Catelyn of her sister when she was still a timid, slender, delicate girl with dimples and always falling into fits of giggles and prone to tongue-tied silences.

"That... that sounds lovely," she said before taking a deep breath. "Yes. We'll speak to Robert and declare fealty to your husband, and then we'll travel with you to Winterfell. It will do us all some good I think." Catelyn felt a small amount of pride as she watched her little sister standing with her back straight and a fierce resolve burning in her eyes. It was almost as if she had come alive again.

The two of them continued to walk along the hallway towards Robert's room, their guards close behind them. As they rounded a corner they saw a household knight at the opposite end walking away and rounding the corner over there. Lysa huffed in annoyance at that before shouting down the hall.

"Who is watching the door to the Lord's bed-chamber!" she yelled. Catelyn shook her head slightly, a small smirk on her face as Lysa stormed off to the door to her son's room. "Robin?" she called through the door. "It's your mother sweetheart. I've brought your Aunt Cat with me. She's with your Uncle Ned to take us to see your cousins." Lysa let Catelyn and the guards catch up to her before she opened the door, a wide smile on her face. "We are going to go and pledge our allegiance to your uncle, who is a King now, and then we..." Lysa's voice trailed off as she opened the door fully, and her eyes widened with horror. Catelyn stared at her sister, her heart hammering in her chest as Lysa shrieked loudly. "NOOOOOO! NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOOOOO! ROBERRRRTTT!" Lysa ran into the room stumbling over her skirt. Catelyn rushed after her and stopped dead at the door, her heart feeling like it would burst.

"Oh gods," she gasped as she felt her eyes water. Little Robert lay on the ground in the middle of his room, his skin deathly pale and his big eyes wide open and devoid of all life. Along his throat was a deep red gash from one side to the next; the top of his shirt was stained dark red and a pool of blood had formed beneath him. A bloodstained dagger lay not far from him.

"No please, gods please let this be a nightmare, please," Lysa begged as tears streaked her face. She had fallen to her knees and was rocking back and forth as she looked down at her son's lifeless body. Catelyn felt like she was going to be sick just looking at her nephew like that. She staggered into the room, feeling light headed as she got closer to her dead nephew and her heartbroken sister. The guards behind her gasped in shock at the sight.

"My Queen?" one of them said. Catelyn turned to face him. The men looked as sick as she felt, their eyes full of shock or outright horror. The man who spoke looked only at her, keeping his eyes locked with hers. "That knight you saw? Do you think..." he trailed off, but Catelyn knew what he meant. _That knight was leaving the room. Could he have... yes, it makes sense_ , she thought.

"Go and seize him at once," she commanded before pointing at the others. "You three," she said pointing to the Vale knights, "and you," pointing to one of the other Northmen, "go and help arrest that man. You two stay with us." One knight and one Northman stood in the room as the rest ran off to catch the murderer. As they left Catelyn looked back at Lysa who was now leaning over Robert's body.

"Please, please, please, please," she whispered. "Gods please, don't let this be my punishment, please. I'll do anything, please."

"Lysa," Catelyn said with a shuddering breath as she knelt down by Robert's feet. "Lysa, I'm so sorry." Tears fell from Catelyn's eyes as she saw her sister looking down at her son's body.

"Please," Lysa whispered again. She sat up and brought her fingers up to her face, crying loudly. "It's my fault," she said as her fingertips dug into her skin, drawing blood. "It's all my fault Cat." Catelyn looked up at Lysa, but before she could speak Lysa wailed loudly. As she did she raked her fingers down her face, drawing blood from her brow as she raked her nails over her cheeks and down to her jaw. "WWHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYY!?" she screamed to the ceiling. "WHY MY SON? WHY NOT TAKE ME? MY SON WAS INNOCENT! HE WAS GOOD AND SWEET! I'M THE ONE TO BE PUNISHED NOT HIM! I KILLED HIS FATHER AND STARTED THIS WAR NOT HIM! YOU SHOULD'VE TAKEN ME! DAMN YOU ALL!" Catelyn gasped as she registered what Lysa was saying.

"L... Lysa?" she mumbled. Lysa looked down at the floor and reached for the dagger. "Lysa!" Catelyn yelled jumping back as her sister picked up the dagger. Lysa looked back at the ceiling, blood and tears trailing down her face.

"DAMN YOU ALL! ALL SEVEN OF YOU! DAMN YOU ALL TO YOUR SEVEN FUCKING HELLS! YOU SHOULD'VE TAKEN ME! NOT MY SON! NOT MY SON! NOT MY SSOOOOOOONNNNN!" Catelyn stood up to her feet just as Lysa was doing the same.

"Lysa," she said through her tears, reaching out to her.

"My Queen!" one of the two men behind her spoke. Catelyn heard footsteps behind her before a pair of arms pulled her back.

"No, let go," she commanded weakly. The household knight stepped forward from her left then, his sword arm held out to Lysa.

"Lady Arryn, give me the dagger please," he spoke fearfully. Lysa looked at her sister, and Catelyn saw that the fire that had burned in her eyes earlier was gone; Lysa's eyes were as lifeless as her son's.

"No, Lysa don't," Catelyn said as she struggled out of the guardsman's grasp.

"Your grace!" the man yelled, drawing the knight's attention. The guardsman grabbed her right arm while the knight stepped forward and took Catelyn's left arm.

"Both of you let me go," she ordered them, but neither one did.

"I'm sorry Cat," Lysa spoke quietly. Catelyn stopped struggling then as she looked at her little sister. In that moment she saw the timid little girl who used to hide from their father when she was in trouble. She did not see the thick bodied woman who looked older than Catelyn was; she saw sweet little giggling Lysa. "I poisoned Jon," she admitted, her voice hoarse. "He was going to send our son to foster with Lord Stannis. Petyr gave me a poison to kill Jon, and that's what I did. But then King Robert wanted to foster my son with Tywin Lannister, so I fled. It was Petyr who suggested that I write to you and blame the Lannisters." Catelyn was stunned by her sister's confession; she not only confessed to murder but also to laying the seeds for the war that was tearing the realm apart now. Both of the men holding her had let her go now, but Catelyn was too shocked to do anything.

"Lysa," she murmured, bringing a hand to her mouth as tears leaked over her face.

"Because of me, your Bran was nearly killed," Lysa continued as blood dripped from her chin. "Because of me, your girls were exposed to that stinking cesspit. Because of me, your Ned was almost killed as his men were slaughtered by the Lannisters." Lysa looked down at the dagger she held in her hands. "This is my punishment," she said, her voice broken. "The gods have taken the one joy from my life, just as father did. I have nothing left to live for." She held the hilt of the dagger in both hands as she raised it up in front of her chest, the blade pointed down. "Forgive me Cat," she said as she moved her arms down.

"NO!" Catelyn screamed as Lysa stabbed herself in the belly, the blade cutting through the dress that she wore. Blood flowered from the wound as she pulled the dagger free, but as the stain grew Lysa plunged the dagger back down into her belly. Again she pulled the dagger free and stabbed herself.

And again.

And again.

And again.

"LYYYSSSAAAAAAAA!" Catelyn screamed as she fell to her knees, watching as her sister stabbed herself repeatedly before finally falling down beside her son. Catelyn was too stunned to do anything but watch as her sister struggled to reach Robert's body with her arms. Lysa tried to pull her son to her as blood fountained out of her ruptured belly. The knight wandered over and kicked the dagger away from them.

"Your grace?" the guardsman spoke, though his voice sounded faint and distant. Catelyn watched as Lysa looked at Robert and mouthed a song to him. She heard her little sister's voice as she sung, and the room began to spin. Before long Catelyn was looking up at the ceiling, and everything went dark.

When Catelyn opened her eyes her vision was blurry. The room was well lit, and there were people in the room with her. Her throat felt dry, and her head heavy. She tried to move but was held down by someone. Her vision slowly improved, and she saw Maester Colemon looking down at her, his eyes full of relief.

"She is awake your grace," he said before stepping away from her bedside. Catelyn looked to the opposite side and saw Ned standing over her.

"Hey," he said softly as he sat down beside her. Catelyn tried to sit up, and regretted the attempt to move almost immediately.

"Ned," she rasped, her throat in pain.

"Drink this your grace," Colemon said as he held out a cup to her. Catelyn drank the foul tasting medicine which she was certain made her throat feel worse when she consumed it. She gave the cup back to Colemon before looking back at Ned.

"How long was I asleep?" she asked after a minute.

"Only a day my love," he told her. "The two men who were with you said that you fainted and struck your head on the floor."

"The medicine I gave you should deal with any pains that you feel in your head your grace," Colemon said. "However if you feel anymore pain you must let me know at once." Catelyn nodded her head in response to him. "I shall leave you both alone for now." As the Maester left the room Ned helped Catelyn to sit up properly. When she was upright she looked at her husband who looked like he had not slept a wink.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him. Ned sighed as he grasped her hand.

"Still in shock Cat," he said. "Those two men who were with you told me everything that happened in there. About Lysa's confession." Mentioning Lysa made Catelyn's throat constrict as the pain of watching her commit suicide came back to her. She looked down at the bed that she was in. "We are in the guest rooms. I didn't think it appropriate to have us sleep in the Moon Tower." Catelyn nodded her head.

"Lysa said it was all her fault," she finally said. "She said she poisoned Jon Arryn and blamed the Lannisters at Petyr's suggestion." She felt Ned putting his hand on her shoulder and rub her soothingly.

"The men you sent after that knight caught up to him," he said. "They saw blood on him and found a letter. The letter had his instructions, which were to kill Robert and then to kill Lysa afterwards. There was no name on the letter so we questioned the killer, who then confessed that his father had given him his orders. Orders sent by Petyr Baelish." Hearing Ned say Petyr's name made Catelyn feel a sudden surge of anger and hatred that she did not think she was capable of.

"Petyr," she spat out as if the name were poison. "Lysa killed her husband, but Petyr poisoned her mind. I want him dead Ned." She looked at him and saw the stunned expression on his face. "The boy I once loved as a brother is dead to me. The man is a stranger who has brought harm to my family. I want him dead." Ned nodded his head to her.

"We'll find him, wherever he has disappeared off to, and I will bring justice down upon him. I promise you Cat." Catelyn nodded her head at her husband's reassurance. After a moment she felt Ned sitting down beside her on the bed and wrap his arms around her. She returned the embrace and began to cry.

"Don't leave me tonight Ned," she said through her tears. "Don't let go."

"Never Cat," he replied as he tightened his grip on her.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This chapter was very difficult for me to write. It took me an entire day to get Catelyn's POV written up, and it got edited to hell until I was fine with what I wrote. And I will admit I did cry a wee bit when I read over that whole sequence from discovering Robert's body to Lysa's suicide.

Next chapter will be up soon, and all I'll say is I'm on a roll for being a right bastard.


	14. The Fallen Stag

**Author's Note:** Update 2 of 2. We will start at the Eyrie with Theon before we go to the Stormlands to see what's up with the Baratheon brothers.

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

 **The Fallen Stag**

* * *

Theon

The last couple of days have been eventful, and not in a good way. Theon remembered the look of worry on Eddard's face when they were told that Catelyn had fainted when her sister had killed herself after finding the boy lord dead in his room. He followed the man who was a second father to him as they made their way into the Moon Tower. _I must be the first Ironborn to set foot inside the Arryns castle_ , he had thought then as they walked to the lord's bed chamber. When they entered they found Catelyn on the ground with Maester Colemon and some guards around her. Eddard went to her first before looking at his good-sister and nephew, but Theon had seen them first and felt his stomach lurch. He has seen dead bodies before, even witnessing the King when he was still Lord Stark carrying out the King's justice on deserters and other condemned men. He has even killed people himself, and a part of him enjoyed the killing. But those killed in front of him or by his hand were all men grown; what he saw in that room was horrifying beyond comprehension. Lady Arryn lay in a massive pool of blood, her dress ripped to bloody pieces around her belly and stained red with her blood. Her son however had one single gash across his throat, and the top part of his shirt was red. He too had lain in a pool of blood. Theon remembered helping to carry Catelyn away from the room, but after that he remembered little apart from Eddard sending him off to get some rest. Instead of resting Theon had pilfered some ale from the kitchens and had gotten drunk to the point of being sick.

Catelyn had awoken yesterday and had spent the day with her husband, leaving Theon free to do as he wished. All he did though was practice his archery, spar with a couple of the guards, and then have a few drinks. He found that he was missing Robb's company, and to his surprise he missed Snow's company as well. _Never thought I'd ever miss being around his solemn mug_ , he thought. During the ride to the Vale he had considered asking Eddard why he was keeping him close to him instead of leaving him with Robb, but in the end he decided against asking that. And with what happened the day before yesterday he decided against asking him for the foreseeable future.

Theon was walking along the corridor to go to his guest room when he heard some laughter coming from the far corner. He had just finished eating dinner not that long ago and found himself with nothing to do. Just this morning Eddard had called for a week of mourning for the boy lord and his mother, despite the fact that Lady Arryn had admitted before killing herself to killing Jon Arryn. Theon had asked the King about the admission and was told that Lady Arryn's words had brought more questions about what Lord Baelish was up to. Theon was told that he would not be needed for the rest of today but he would be required from tomorrow as normal. So now Theon found himself walking over to the corner where the laughter was coming from. He turned the corner and walked down to where he saw an open door. He approached the door slowly until he was close enough to peer in, where he saw one of the household knights pulling his clothes back on while a woman lay naked on her side with her back to the door.

"And then I remember when the little lord would run about and pull his lady mother's arm and demand to be fed there and then, causing Lady Arryn no end of embarrassment judging by how red she would go," the woman said. The knight laughed as he pulled on his breeches and began to lace them up. After a moment the laughter stopped and the woman sighed. "He was a sweet little boy," she said solemnly. "Poor of health and quite a little terror from time to time, but sweet nonetheless. He didn't deserve to die like that." Theon stepped back so that they would not see him if they should move.

"He was a little shit," the knight said, earning a gasp from the woman. Theon was quite surprised at the bluntness from the man. "Don't give me that look love, he was. The last few months were a bloody nightmare for us all. I was quite fed up with his tantrums, and gods did I want to give him a clout seeing as his lady mother wouldn't. Still, he didn't deserve to die that young, and certainly not that way." Theon began to inch away from the door and go back the way he came.

"He was a handful, you're right," the woman said. "But still, life must go on I suppose. But who'll be the new Lord of the Eyrie?"

"I don't know," the knight spoke. The two were quiet for a short while so Theon began to move around the corner. Just as he had moved around it he heard the woman speak again.

"Did you notice that the Stark King has brought his captive Ironborn with him?" The question made Theon pause. His cheeks burned at being called a captive, even though he knew that that was what he was, but all the same he was intrigued to know what was going to be said.

"Is that who that dark haired lad is?" the knight replied. "Gods I thought he looked familiar. Balon Greyjoy's last son?" The woman giggled, a sweet sound that was full of sin.

"Mya had been giving him looks according to Mhartha," the woman continued. The knight made a grunt of surprise at that.

"I thought Mya was taken with that Redfort boy? Mychel was it?" he asked.

"Well from what Mhartha told me the boy took her maidenhead not that long ago," the woman said. Theon was about to inch closer when he heard the distinct click of the door being closed, and soon he heard nothing coming from the room. _Bloody typical_ , he thought with a huff. Theon began walking again with the aim of finding his guest room, all the while lost in his own thoughts. _Who could this Mya be anyway_? he wondered. _Is she a whore or a servant? Does she live here in the Eyrie or does she live at one of the waycastles? I need to see if I can_...

"Excuse me?" a voice said from behind him. Theon turned around to see a young man standing behind him. He looked to be about sixteen or seventeen years old, and had sandy hair and blue eyes. His face was clean shaven and he looked nervous. "I'm sorry to bother you but I'm afraid I am lost. I'm trying to find the King you see, and Lady Waynwood said that I am to find him and speak with him." It took Theon a little while to realise who he was.

"You're Lady Waynwood's ward, are you not?" he asked him. The boy nodded his head.

"Y... yes. Yes I am. My name is Harrold Hardyng. I am a distant cousin of Lady Waynwood. She has raised me at Ironoaks since I was very young." The young man gave a smile to Theon and reached out his hand to him. Theon was quite taken aback by this, but he recovered quite quickly and shook his hand.

"I am Theon Greyjoy," he told Harrold. "Lord... ahem, King Eddard's ward." He returned the smile to Harrold as they let go of their hands. "I was on my way back to my guest rooms but I can take you to where the King is." Harrold nodded his head, looking somewhat grateful.

"That would be very good of you ser," he said. Theon chuckled slightly as he turned around to lead him to the King.

"I'm not a knight Ser Harrold," he told him honestly. The young man looked a little bit shocked by that.

"Oh. Well, neither am I, yet," he said. "I'm still a squire, although saying that Lady Waynwood has told me that I am to start squiring for someone else."

Theon led Harrold along the hallways to where he knew Eddard to be staying at. They took half an hour to get to the room in question, and they spent their time talking about various things from fighting to drinking, and eventually women. Harrold seemed to have a strong desire for women much like Theon had, and to his surprise he also said that he has a bastard daughter. They were talking about their preferences when it comes to women when they finally came across the hallway that led to where the King was staying. A dozen guardsmen in Stark colours stood at attention along the hallway, all with shields held ready and with their hands gripping the hilts of their swords.

"Well, here we are Harrold," Theon said. He led him along the hallway until he came to the door where a tall broad shouldered man was standing. "We are here to speak with the King," Theon told him. "He is waiting for Harrold Hardyng here." The guard looked at them and nodded before opening the door and walking in.

"My King, Theon Greyjoy has brought Harrold Hardyng to see you," the guard said.

"Thank you Derik," the King responded. The guard stepped aside and allowed Theon and Harrold to enter before closing the door behind him. Both of them stood still until they were told to take their seats. When they both sat down Eddard looked up at them. He was dressed in black today, just as Catelyn was when Theon saw her earlier. His bronze and iron crown was no doubt secured in its case, and Ice rested on the table nearby. "So, you are Harrold Hardyng?" he said after nodding to Theon.

"Yes, your grace," Harrold said.

"And do you know why you are here?" Eddard asked. Theon looked at Harrold and saw him shake his head.

"Lady Waynwood said that I was to speak to you, but she would not say why," he admitted.

"Because you are to be my second squire," the King said. Theon blinked at that, looking at the man with a questioning look. _Second squire? Who was the first_? he wondered. As if reading his mind Eddard spoke further. "Young Theon here is my first squire, being my ward since the end of the Greyjoy Rebellion," he said. Theon felt a twinge of bitterness in him then at the reminder of why he was sent away to Winterfell. _It could've been worse_ , he told himself. _It could've been the Dreadfort or Casterly Rock you were sent to_. "According to some of my lords, as a King I should have two squires. Personally I do not see the point, but a lot of my lords are insistent on me taking a second squire. Therefore I shall be taking you on as my second squire." Theon looked back at Harrold who was looking shocked at what he just heard.

"I am honoured, your grace," he replied. "Though I must admit I am wondering why you would take _me_ as a squire." _As am I_ , Theon thought as he looked back at Eddard.

"Like Theon here you are the heir to a kingdom, and as such it is considered important that you squire with someone who can give you the lordly education that you need," the King said. Theon looked at him with wide eyes then. While it was true that Theon was the heir to the whole of the Iron Islands, Harrold was only a member of a House of landed knights. _How can he be the heir to a kingdom_?

"You must be mistaken your grace," Harrold responded. "I am only from a minor House sworn to House Waynwood of Ironoaks. My family are no more than landed knights. My cousins through my father's brother and myself are all that is left of the men of our House." Harrold fell silent then as Eddard fixed him with his stern face, his 'lord's' face as it were. The first time that Eddard had used that look on him Theon had fallen silent within a few seconds of seeing that look. He was quite glad that he was not the only person who was not of Eddard's family to fall silent when receiving that look.

"Your grandmother was the sister of Jon Arryn, who was Lord of the Eyrie and Defender of the Vale of Arryn," he said. "You have Arryn blood in your veins lad. With my nephew Lord Robert dead, lordship of the Eyrie passes to the next Arryn. The only Arryns left are those who live in Gulltown, and they are considered to be unworthy of carrying on the Arryn line. You are the next best choice. Your great-grandfather Lord Jasper ruled the Vale before Lord Jon. You have a claim to the Eyrie. You will be my squire until you have seen your eighteenth nameday, but before that you shall be wed to a lady of the Vale and have children to carry on the name. Kneel before me in the High Hall of your ancestors, pledge your fealty to me, and I shall name you as Lord Harrold Arryn." Theon looked at the King with wide eyes, finally understanding why Eddard was naming Harrold as the new Lord of the Vale. Eddard's intelligence was something that Theon always envied about the Northman, that and his love for his family.

While he never treated Theon the same way he treated his sons the man always gave Theon respect and kindness, and as with his own children he always showed a firm hand towards Theon whenever he got himself into trouble. He was a far better father than old Balon Greyjoy, Theon's true father; he had two older sons (who died during his failed rebellion ten years ago), and so he all but ignored Theon. The only family that Theon missed were his mother Alannys Harlaw and his older sister Asha. There were one or two other people from Pyke that he missed, but none more so than Dagmer Cleftjaw, an old raider with a fearsome reputation who taught Theon as a boy how to fight, as well as teaching him riding and boatman-ship. Dagmer was the old master-at-arms at Pyke, or at least he passed for one, and Theon as a boy referred to him as Uncle Dagmer on account of him having a female Greyjoy ancestor four or five generations back. _I wonder if he still has all of those rings of his_? he wondered. _The gold and silver and bronze, all set with sapphire and garnet and dragonglass. Rings he claimed the old way, by paying the iron price_.

Theon looked back to Harrold, snapping himself out of his thoughts. The young man looked quite astonished by what Eddard had told him, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Theon felt like telling him to close his mouth but decided against it.

"My... your grace, that is... uh, I mean, I... I really don't know what to say," he finally managed stumble out before looking down at his hands. Harrold looked like he had aged a lot just by hearing the news.

"It's never easy to accept Harrold," Eddard said. "Trust me, I know how you feel." Harrold looked back at Eddard, as did Theon.

"You do?" he asked. Eddard nodded his head.

"I was only a year or so older than you when I learned that my father and brother were killed by the Mad King," he replied. "I was the second son of the Lord of Winterfell, and then all of a sudden I was the Lord of Winterfell myself. It took me months to get accustomed to the sudden change, and even today I still find myself wondering what the hells I am doing." Theon heard a snort of a laugh coming from Harrold, who immediately cleared his throat.

"Sorry your grace, I don't mean to be disrespectful," he said. Eddard merely smiled in response to that.

"That's quite alright Harrold," he said. "It will take some time getting used to, and even then you may find that you have days where you wonder what is going on. I will give you until the end of the mourning period to get yourself used to this change, and then I'll have you swear your oath to me." Theon glanced at Harrold who nodded his head in response.

"Of course your grace," he said.

"Now then, you may take your leave and get some rest. I will be speaking with Lady Waynwood and the others to determine a suitable bride for you and we will speak with you on the matter after you have sworn your oath." Harrold made to stand, as did Theon, before Eddard spoke again. "Theon, could you remain for a moment please?" he asked. Theon looked at the King before nodding his head.

"Yes your grace," he answered as Harrold stood up.

"By your leave, your grace," the young man said with a bow before leaving the room.

As Harrold left the room Theon looked at his foster father and captor, who regarded him with his usual stern look. Since the day he returned to his family Eddard has seemed to be a different person than the lord who had left to become Hand of the King to Robert Baratheon. He seemed a lot more stern than before, and perhaps a little bit ruthless. Theon was not sure what to make of this sudden change in the man, but a part of him was nervous.

"For nearly ten years I have raised you at Winterfell Theon," he began after a minute of silence. "You have slept under my roof, eaten and drank from my table, and sparred and learned with my sons. But I feel as if I have neglected your education by not teaching you about your homeland." Theon sat back in his seat, a little startled by this admission.

"Well, your grace..."

"What have I recently told you about addressing me when you are alone in the room with me?" he interrupted. Theon sighed slightly, smirking as he did.

"To only address you by title when announcing myself and when leaving after being dismissed," he answered. "I apologise, Eddard, but I find that old habits are difficult to shift." Eddard smiled at him as he folded his arms in front of his chest and leant back into his seat.

"You are not only the last son of Balon Greyjoy, but the future Lord of the Iron Islands," he told him. "As a lord you will be expected to keep your fellow Ironborn in line, especially during peace time. And the only way to do that effectively is to learn about being Ironborn. With the Seven Kingdoms splintering under the domain of multiple kings your people will start to get ideas in their head about returning to the old way of reaving coasts. That cannot happen." Theon nodded his head, bringing a hand up to scratch his chin as he thought about what Eddard was telling him.

"My father might use this war to attack anyone," Theon spoke then, looking back at the King. "He would be foolish to attack the North though, especially with me still by your side. But he could well attack anyone else if you were to tell him to." Eddard grunted in response to that, his eyes looking down at the table in front of him before looking back at Theon.

"Of that I must confess I am not too sure," he said, and Theon felt a cold feeling in his gut then. "Just last night I received word from Seagard that the Iron Islands are preparing for war, but their target is not known. I would send you straight back to your father, but something tells me that doing so while we are at war in the south would not be good. You father has no love for me, and some of my bannermen have expressed that they think that Balon Greyjoy would happily attack the North if I were to send you back just now." Theon gulped at the words, feeling uncomfortable with what he was hearing. While he was certain that his father would not dare attack the North while the Starks still held dominion over it, a part of him suspected that Eddard was right. "To that end I have sent word to Ser Helman Tallhart to send four-thousand men back north and to command his brother Ser Leobald to begin patrolling the Stony Shore. I have also sent word to Bear Island and Deepwood Motte to have them increase patrols around their nearby coasts, as well as sending word to the Flints of Flint's Finger telling them the same. From the Flint Cliff and Cape Kraken to the shores of the Rills and the Stony Shore, Sea Dragon Point and Bear Island I intend to have regular patrols keeping an eye out for any Ironborn should your father decide to forsake you, or should he be usurped and replaced by another Ironborn lord who wants to attack the North." Theon nodded his head slowly when Eddard finished speaking, feeling a sense of dread as he thought about what he said.

"If my father, or another lord from the Iron Islands, were to attack the North, would you do as King Robert had once expected of you?" he asked slowly after nearly a minute of silence. "Would you kill me?" Eddard looked at Theon with those grey eyes of his, boring into his very soul or so it seems. Upon looking him in the eye Theon noticed that his eyes seemed soft, not hard.

"No Theon," he finally said. "You and Robb have a good friendship. Robb looks at you as if you are a brother to him. That alone makes it impossible for me to kill you. For that to happen you would have to put me into a position where I would have no other choice but to kill you." Theon let out a deep breath then, relief surging through him. "I will not put you at the front of battle unless I am fighting there myself. I cannot risk your life unnecessarily Theon. But you are a keen eyed archer, which is good because you are barely adequate with a sword." Theon chuckled at that, as did Eddard.

"You're right there," he said. The two men fell silent for a short time before Eddard stood up and walked over to the door.

"Now then, I have far too much work to do, and very little time to get it done," he said. "And you could do with getting some rest. Go and have some food before resting Theon. Starting from tomorrow I want you to go to Maester Colemon at midday for as long as we are here and ask him to teach you what he can about the Iron Islands, from each of the islands and their castles to the people who live there, both the small folk and the nobles. I will speak with him before we leave the Eyrie and ask him what he is teaching you so that when we return to Riverrun I can have Maester Vyman continue with your education." Theon gave a slight frown at that particular instruction.

"I know about the islands and some of the Houses there Eddard," he said, a slight hint of defiance in his voice.

"It never hurts to go over what you already know lad," he replied. Theon opened his mouth to answer back but stopped himself, realising that Eddard was right. "Now, off you go Theon." Theon walked out of the room and into the hallway.

"Okay then," he said, slowly accepting Eddard's instruction. "I'll see you later then, your grace." Theon gave a slight bow before walking off down the hallway. _He's right, he's always so bloody right_ , he thought as he wandered down the hallway back to his chambers. _Still, as annoying as it is, I'm to do it from tomorrow, so I can have some enjoyment before then. Now, let's see if I can find out who this Mya is_.

* * *

Renly

Renly looked out at the camp that was set up outside of Storm's End. He was furious with Stannis for laying siege to his home, the very castle where they _both_ grew up. Their mother, Lady Cassana, had given birth to both of them in that castle. Stannis held off the forces of the Reach when Lord Mace had organised the siege of Storm's End during his brother's rebellion. He and Stannis had both endured the siege and starved together there for months. And now Stannis was the one laying siege to the castle. _I bet that if he was capable of enjoyment then he would be enjoying every minute of this_ , he thought bitterly. Renly shook his head slightly as he heard footsteps coming behind him. Looking over his shoulder Renly saw Loras approaching him. His best friend and lover had a glum look in his eyes. _He still feels torn over what to do about us_ , he realised, feeling guilt pooling in his stomach.

"The men are all assembled and ready your grace," Loras spoke stiffly. Renly winced slightly at his tone.

"Good Loras," he answered. "I hope Stannis is feeling as irritable as I am just now." Loras grunted out a poor attempt at a chuckle.

"We have been approaching his camp slowly for just over a week now so he's probably been driven mad by our deliberate slow advance," he said. "Plus he is probably trying to figure out how he is going to deal with Lord Stark." Mentioning Ned made Renly feel uneasy; he had received word a fortnight ago now that Ned had not only returned to his wife and eldest son who were at Riverrun, but had now also become known as the King in the North. Renly felt unsettled by this revelation. He was surprised by the news and even angry about it, but Renly knew that he could not blame Ned. _After I left him to the Lannisters he probably wants nothing more to do with me apart from setting down terms_ , he thought. _Oh why couldn't you see reason Ned? It would've been so much better for all of us if you did. Now we will probably end up at war with each other. What would Robert say if he saw us as we all are now_?

"We shall worry about him later Loras," Renly said. "For now let us walk back to our command tent."

Renly and Loras walked alongside each other to the tent where the lords of both the Reach and the Stormlands had gathered for the war council. His remaining Rainbow Guard had all gathered inside the tent, and he saw his lords all stood waiting to speak with him. Renly walked up to the table and saw the map on it with wooden markers for the various Houses that were assembled. He knew that Ser Cortnay Penrose was inside Storm's End, holding the Baratheons seat as its castellan, and had a decent sized garrison within. Stannis had the support of the Houses sworn to Dragonstone as well as his Onion Knight, Ser Davos Seaworth, and some sellswords too. At best Stannis had four-thousand men. Renly had with him the might of the Reach at his command, with his good-father Mace Tyrell having summoned many of his lords, including both branches of House Fossoway, House Tarly, House Rowan, House Oakheart and many others. On top of that he had many Stormlords under his banner, including House Dondarrion whose lord was currently fighting alongside the Northmen and their allies. Lord Beric's cousins had declared for him and assumed control of Blackhaven, denouncing Beric's lordship and calling him a traitor. Renly had with him many thousands of men, in excess of thirty-thousand just now, most of them cavalry.

"My lords," he spoke, his voice calm and full of confidence. "What is the situation just now?" He looked over to Lord Randyll Tarly, who he appointed as his master of war. Mace may have claimed to have been the mastermind behind the siege of Storm's End during Robert's Rebellion as well as his only defeat at Ashford, but it was the planning of Lord Randyll that saw the Reach triumph over Robert and threaten Storm's End.

"Your brother has encircled Storm's End completely, by land and sea your grace," the Lord of Horn Hill spoke, his voice stern and unyielding. "Stannis's forces are heavily outnumbered by our own, but as he was during your brother King Robert's war he is too stubborn to yield. His men are dug in, ready to defend against us, but if he is lucky he would withstand us for no more than half an hour." Randyll Tarly stood up straight and had his hands held behind his back, his eyes grim and focused. He looked at Renly with a firm stare that would have made Renly nervous had he not seen him look at people that way before.

"His ships are enough to prevent any supplies from entering Storm's End the same way that the Onion Knight was able to during the rebellion," spoke Ser Marcus Dondarrion, the new Lord of Blackhaven. The knight had short red hair and a clean shaven face, and seemed to have a serious look all of the time. Despite that Renly liked Ser Marcus, and found him to be a level headed person. Although that still did not make things easier for him; if Lord Beric should return to reclaim Blackhaven Renly would be torn between the two men. He would probably support Ser Marcus in the end though, as what he has done to Beric is the same as what Renly is doing to Stannis. "If Lord Redwyne can get his ships to Storm's End then he can shatter Stannis's paltry fleet and end his blockade."

"Lord Dondarrion, my cousin will not mobilise his fleet while his sons are still being held by the Lannisters in King's Landing," Mace said, sounding frustrated.

"He has his daughter, does he not? And his cousins as well," Ser Marcus pointed out.

"Plus those two lads of his are idiots anyway," said Ser Edric Dondarrion, Ser Marcus's younger brother. Ser Edric looked very similar to his elder brother, but with longer hair and a neatly trimmed beard. "He should put his hopes on his daughter rather than his sons. She seems to have her head on straight, though saying that it seems to be the case with the granddaughters of Lady Olenna." Renly shot a glare at Ser Edric; of the two brothers Renly cannot stand Edric, who he sees as rude and arrogant. Mace stares at the young man as well, his cheeks burning with fury at the blatant insult. Ser Marcus strikes his younger brother over the head and dismisses him from the tent, his tone full of anger. Ser Edric walks out with an arrogant smirk on his lips.

"I apologise for that remark from my brother my lord," Ser Marcus spoke. "He does not think through his responses properly." Mace was still trembling with fury but he was able to calm himself enough to answer.

"So long as your brother apologises himself I will ignore his words Lord Dondarrion," Mace said. Renly cleared his throat before leaning on the table.

"Anyway my lords, what hope does my brother have of surviving our assault?" he asked.

"None your grace," Randyll answered in his stern voice. "His only hope is to yield to you and declare you as his King." Renly smiled at that.

"Good," he said. "If he surrenders then I will accept and when the war is done I will ship him off to the Wall. I'll take my niece in and raise her. Or rather I'll have her raised by someone capable of doing so. His wife I'll give to the Silent Sisters." Some of the lords hummed in agreement with him. Renly looked at the gathered lords and looked at them all. Most had indifference in their eyes at his words while one or two seemed accepting of it. A handful looked uneasy with him, but he expected that. "Stannis is my elder brother. He might accept that he cannot win against me now, but what is to stop him from plotting against me after I have taken the Iron Throne? It is far better to be safe than sorry I say." A cough from the far side of the table drew Renly's attention to Ser Bryan Fossoway of Cider Hall.

"Your grace if I may?" he asked. Renly nodded his head to the knight, who then continued speaking. "Once we are done with your brother Stannis and have taken the Iron Throne how do you plan to deal with the traitor Eddard Stark?" Renly felt dread at being asked that question by Ser Bryan. Over the last few weeks Renly decided that the Fossoway knight has no love for him and seems to pick topics of conversation that make Renly feel uncomfortable. Ser Bryan also knows that Renly held Ned in high esteem. "With him declaring himself as a king he is now a traitor who needs to be reined in and dealt with."

"Strip him of his lands and titles and send him and his eldest son to the Wall," someone said.

"Take the heathen's head and make his son give his firstborn son as a ward to you your grace," said another.

"NO!" came the voice of Randyll Tarly. Renly looked at the man who looked at everyone in the room with hard eyes. "We do that and we might as well condemn ourselves to a brutal war that we have no hope of seeing ended. The North will not bow easily to King Renly."

"They are no more than savages Lord Tarly," someone called out, but Renly had no time to find out who.

"Savages who managed to capture Tywin Lannister," Randyll shot back. The lords fell silent then, and Renly took the opportunity to speak.

"Lord Tarly is right," he said. "The Northmen are savage in battle, but they are an honourable people with a strong sense of nobility and duty. They can also be quite fierce in their support of House Stark. If we were to try and kill the Starks and force them to their knees we would not solve the problem with them. We would only make things worse. No my lords, the best thing to do is to treat with them, and if we cannot win them over with words them we will hold a trial by combat with Lord Stark and beat him into submission. If we do that then he would be honour-bound to accept the result and his people would also accept the result."

"A noble idea your grace," Ser Bryan said. "But what if you're wrong about them accepting the result?" Renly glared at the knight, tired of the man's presence.

"They will accept the result, and then..."

"You grace!" a squire shouted as he stormed into the tent, interrupting Renly. "Lord Stannis has sent word for a meeting with you out in the field. He wants to discuss terms." The gathered lords started to murmur with each other while Renly looked at the squire, quietly relieved at the interruption.

"Well then, let's go and treat with my brother then, shall we?" he called out.

Renly left the tent with his Rainbow Guard behind him, as well as Mace and Randyll, along with Ser Marcus and a few others. He ran up to his horse and climbed up into the saddle, making sure his sword was secure and quickly checking his armour to make sure that it was not loose. Loras mounted his horse at the same time as Brienne and Ser Robar Royce. When everyone else was mounted Renly rode out, riding towards the edge of the camp. Once there he saw his brother's banner fluttering in the distance. Upon the banner was the Baratheon stag with a fiery heart behind it. _So he has taken with his Red Woman's faith_ , he thought. Renly urged his horse on to the banner, his guards and lords close behind. After five minutes of riding he stopped his horse no more than five yards away from Stannis. His elder brother sat atop his horse, looking as grim-faced as ever. He had his Onion Knight with him as well as the Red Woman. There were also a handful of others too, but Renly paid them no mind.

"Stannis, is that really you?" Renly began, smirking at Stannis as he spoke. His brother ground his teeth as he always did before responding.

"You know it's me Renly," he spoke, voice as grim as his face.

"Was just wondering, I almost did not recognise you, especially with your banner," Renly replied. "I'm glad you have found faith brother."

"Enough of your japes Renly," Stannis ground out. Renly smirked even more, pleased that he was getting on his brother's nerves.

"No, I'm being serious, I am actually glad that you have found faith. The banners will also make it easy during the battle, it would be a bloody nuisance if we had the same banner, make everything confusing for all of us," Renly quipped. Stannis glared at him, his hand tightening into a fist.

"We are here to discuss terms _Lord_ Renly," the Onion Knight said. "Not trade insults." Renly looked briefly at the former smuggler before looking back at Stannis.

"You wish terms Stannis? Well here are my terms," he said, looking his brother in the eye. "I propose that you dismount, bend you knee, and swear me your allegiance." Stannis's response was to grind his teeth again. _Why does he always have to grind his blasted teeth_?

"That you shall never have," Stannis finally answered. Renly gave him a smile as he shifted in his saddle.

"You served Robert, why not me?" he asked, although he knew what the answer was likely to be.

"Robert was our _elder_ brother, you are the younger," Stannis snapped. Renly smiled even more at his response, knowing that he was getting Stannis angry.

"Younger, bolder, and far more comely," Renly said.

"And a thief and usurper besides," Stannis retorted. Renly shrugged his shoulders.

"The Targaryens called Robert usurper," Renly pointed out. "If he could bear the shame then so can I." Stannis seemed to become more angry, his nostrils flaring and his cheeks reddening with rage. "Come now Stannis, there's no point to this folly. You are outnumbered, severely at that. I don't wish to see you dead." That was not entirely true, but of course he could never admit that. "If it comes to battle your lines will be overrun in the time it takes to blink. You only have a daughter to carry on your line. Selyse has failed to give you a son in all the years of your marriage. Margaery however will have no problem with giving me an heir." Stannis scoffed at that.

"We both know your wedding was a mummer's farce," he spat. "Only a year ago were you scheming to make the girl one of Robert's whores. I can only imagine how eager she would've been to seize the chance of being just that if nothing else." Stannis's words made Renly angry. While he had intended to get Margaery into Robert's bed in a bid to remove Cersei and her children he had never sought to have her be treated no better than a common prostitute.

"A year ago I was scheming to make Margaery Robert's _Queen_ ," he snapped back before taking a deep breath to calm himself. As he did he noticed something that made him uneasy; Stannis was smirking, although with his stern face it looked more like a grimace.

"Are you telling me that you actually bedded her?" he asked with what could well have been amusement in his voice. _Is he actually amused by that_? Renly wondered. "It matters little in the end. I will not yield to you Renly. The Iron Throne is mine, by right. I am Robert's eldest trueborn heir, Cersei's children are bastards born of incest with her twin brother the Kingslayer."

"Yes, we know that already," Renly cut in. "I received Ned's letter which revealed the truth of the matter."

"The law is clear Renly," Stannis continued as if he had not been interrupted. "For the love of the mother who birthed us I shall give you until dawn to bend the knee to me and remove your crown. Do this and what I have already offered you will still be given. I will allow you to rule the Stormlands as the Lord of Storm's End, give you a seat on the small council and I shall name you as my heir until a son is born to me. As Selyse is more than likely unable to grant me a son the chances are you will be King one day, and any son you have with Lady Margaery will be King after you." Renly sighed in annoyance then. He looked at his brother and shook his head as he moved his hand to reach inside his cloak. As he did Stannis brought his sword hand to the hilt of his sword ready to draw. Renly smirked at his brother's nervous display as he pulled out a peach.

"Come now Stannis, no need to be so suspicious of people all of the time," he responded. "Would you like one? All the way from Highgarden. You've never tasted anything so sweet I promise you."

"I did not come here to eat fruit!" Stannis barked out with a scowl. Renly only chuckled as he took a bite from the peach and chewed the soft fruit.

"A man should never refuse to taste a peach," he said when he was finished. "He may never get the chance again. Life is short, Stannis. And as the Starks always say, winter is coming. If you don't see sense and stand down winter will come for you much sooner than it should." Stannis's eyes widened in anger at Renly. After a moment though he urged his horse to move to the side.

"We shall see Renly," he said. "Come the morrow, we shall see." With that Stannis rode off, followed by the Onion Knight and most of the others. The Red Woman though just sat atop of her horse and looked at him, a strange look in her damnable red eyes.

"You should have knelt to your brother Lord Renly," she said. "King Stannis is the Lord's Chosen. Sleep well Lord Renly, for the night is dark and full of terrors." With those words said the Red Woman rode on after Stannis, the rest of Stannis's party following her. Renly sat there on his horse, a nervous shudder running up his back as he wondered what the woman could have meant. _Probably just trying to intimidate me_ , he finally decided when he urged his horse to ride back to his camp.

"Let's return to camp and finalise preparations," he said.

The next three hours were spent discussing the preparations for the battle that would take place tomorrow. Renly sat and listened to the lords as they discussed the tactics that they would use for dealing with Stannis's rather small army. Thankfully no one bothered to bring up Ned and his Northmen again, though one look at Ser Bryan told him that the knight was tempted to bring it up again. After the discussions were finished Renly dismissed the lords and told them to go and have their supper. Everyone left the tent and Renly was left with only his Rainbow Guard to keep him company. He dismissed all of them save for Loras and Ser Emmon Cuy, who he orders to stay outside. Robar Royce walks out while speaking with Bryce Caron, while Brienne walks ahead of Guyard Morrigen and Parmen Crane. Ser Emmon steps outside the tent, leaving Renly and Loras alone. Renly approaches Loras, who was looking anywhere but at him.

"Loras," he whispered softly as he stopped beside him. "Speak to me." Loras looks at him and for the first time since meeting him Renly sees a look in the man's eyes that shocked him; a look of utter betrayal.

"Bad enough that you chose to take my sister's heart, but now you wish to destroy her by carrying on with me?" he spat quietly, his voice shaking with anger. Renly was stunned by the sudden venom from Loras. "I see how she looked at you when you sent her away to Highgarden, and I saw how you looked at her." Renly sighed as he looked down at the ground beneath them.

"Loras please," he started.

"No," Loras cut in. "I won't allow it. She is my sister Renly. I may love you and Seven save me I'll never be able to stop loving you, but I won't let you break her. Especially not for me." Renly was a little stunned by this.

"Loras," he said a little bit more firmly. "I have no intention of breaking Margaery's heart. I do not ever want to do that. I do care about her, maybe not as much as I care about you..."

"And that's it," Loras interrupted. "That's just it Renly." A lone tear slipped from Loras's eye then, trailing down his cheek. "You care for me more than anything, and it... it hurts me knowing that despite everything that we have done, after everything we have shared... that it will stop you from treating Margaery as she deserves to be treated. I love you Renly, but I don't want to be the cause of my sister's heartache." He was crying now, softly so as not to draw Ser Emmon's attention, but all the same it hurt Renly to see him so broken. _You stupid, useless, pitiful excuse of a man_ , Renly chastised himself for what must have been the millionth time since marrying Margaery. He grabbed Loras and pulled him into a close embrace, wrapping his arms around him.

"I would never willingly hurt her Loras," he told him. He let Loras calm down a little bit, waiting for him to get his tears under control before he continued. "When we see Margaery again, I want you to sit down with her and talk to her, okay?" Loras pulled back from the embrace and looked Renly in the eye. "You are worried about causing her heartache. Well she was worried about doing the same to you. It has not been easy just sharing your sister's bed let alone doing... doing the things that you and I have done. It's been fucking hard for me. I've been torturing myself day and night since I wed her about hurting you both, and it just... it just..." For the first time in a long time Renly had no idea just what to say. So instead he pulled Loras back into the embrace and held him tightly.

"I'm sorry Renly," Loras whispered. Renly put a gentle kiss to the side of his brow.

"Me too Loras," he said. He pushed him back gently and looked him in the eye. "Now dry your eyes up and go and get some rest. You'll need it for the battle, not that you'll get the chance I don't think. By the time you get your blade free from the scabbard Stannis will likely be trampled into the dirt. That'll give him a proper reason to look grim, won't it?" Loras laughed at the light hearted jape.

"Yeah, it would," he replied after a moment. Loras sniffled as he stepped back and stood up straighter, trying to look proud and ready for battle. "Just tell me one thing though Renly. Do you love her? Do you truly love her?" Renly sighed as he looked at Loras, trying to think clearly before answering.

"Honestly? I do not know," he said. Loras seemed to be pained by the answer but all he did was take a deep breath and look off to the side. When he looked back at Renly, there was a look of resignation in his eyes.

"She loves you," he said. "When you sent her to Highgarden, she looked at you the same way I look at you." Renly felt himself tense up at that. He closed his eyes and let out a low sigh.

"When we see her again, we'll sort this out, okay?" Renly said. Loras nodded his head after a long moment.

"Okay," he replied. Renly nodded his head and turned to walk out of the tent.

"Go and get some rest Lord Commander," he said looking over his shoulder to Loras, who looked at him briefly before laughing slightly. The sight made Renly smile as well, and then he left the tent.

As Renly stepped outside he looked from side to side, taking in his surroundings. The tents that were gathered all around were swaying slightly in the breeze. The air was a touch muggy, and it was not that dark yet. _Still summer after all_ , he thought. _How many more years will we have before autumn arrives I wonder_? As Renly took in his surroundings he listened to the sounds of the encampment; men laughing as they drank together and played games of dice or cards; the odd argument over who will have first blood tomorrow; old seasoned men-at-arms giving advice to summer knights who have never seen anything more than a melee at a tourney. There was even the sound of the odd woman throughout the camp, from washer women cleaning clothes and cloths to serving girls delivering drinks and giggling along with the rowdy japes of the men. There was even at one point the sound of a man and woman enjoying each other. Hearing that had made Renly think of Margaery, and he felt a slight twinge of pain in his heart. Shaking his head he turned to look at Ser Emmon who was stood off to the side.

"Let's go Ser Emmon, shall we?" he said.

"Of course your grace," the knight said. Renly walked along the camp with Ser Emmon behind him. As they walked by the tents they saw the odd man-at-arms walking into view and bowing to him respectfully, giving him encouraging smiles. The sight made him smile, knowing that no matter what else would happen in his private life he always had the love of the people. _Robert had his charisma, and that is one thing that I can claim to have gotten from him. What do you have that can compare to that Stannis_? As he walked along a young looking woman with dirty brown hair that reached her waist approached him. She held her skirt up as she rushed over to him, stopping just a couple of yards away from him.

"Many pardons yer grace," the woman said. "But Lord Tyrell has asked if ye could meet with 'im in private." Renly was surprised at that, thinking that Mace would be more concerned with stuffing his face with food and drink just now.

"Well then, let's go to his tent," Renly said. The woman shook her head.

"Am very sorry, but he said to take you to another tent," she said. "All milord said was that it were urgent that you meet with 'im where spies would not think to find ye." _How strange_ , Renly thought.

"Very well then miss. Lead on."

Renly and Ser Emmon followed the woman as she led them further away from where Renly's tent was located. He watched the woman as she navigated around the tents, stopping to allow him to catch up with her. They continued to walk for quite some time until they arrived at a tent where there were numerous supply crates gathered around.

"Just in this tent yer grace," the woman said. Renly looked over his shoulder to Ser Emmon who nodded his head, his sword hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Renly turned around and entered the tent, looking around. Inside there were many crates, all arranged three crates high, each individual crate no taller than waist high and only just as wide as Robert had been. The woman stepped in front and led them through the crates, which Renly realised were arranged like a maze. After a couple of minutes of wandering Renly began to wonder if there was a reason why Mace chose this place for a clandestine meeting. After another minute Renly looked over his shoulder to find that Ser Emmon was no longer behind him. _How the... where could he have gone? And how did I not hear him no longer following me_? He turned around to face the young woman who was now facing him fully.

"I don't suppose you know where my guard could've gone?" he asked the woman. All she did though was giggle.

"Oh, I think he must've taken a wrong turn in here," she said in a sweet sounding voice. "It'll take him a minute to catch up with us, more than enough time." As she spoke she slowly removed the top part of her dress, exposing quite an impressive pair of large round breasts. She let the dress slide down her arms, revealing her smooth belly. When she took a step forward the dress slid further down, letting her lithe legs show, as well as the mound of hair that was above where her sheathe was. Renly gulped, his cheeks going red with embarrassment.

"My goodness," he managed to say, earning a giggle from the young woman who was now completely naked from head to toe save for a ribbon that was tied around her right thigh. Her hands travelled up and down her body, her fingers gliding over her skin.

"Do you like what you see your grace?" she purred, her voice seductive. Renly felt more embarrassed than he had ever felt in his entire life.

"Well now... um, I don't think... I'm a married man," he managed to say. "I swore vows, and I am nothing like my brother." The young woman pouted at him as she took another step forward.

"Ah, a man who loves his wife, such a shame," she said before looking over his shoulder. "Oh, looks like your friend finally caught up." Now feeling beyond embarrassed Renly turned around to see Ser Emmon staggering towards him, his hands grasping at his throat as something dark ran down his armour. When Ser Emmon dropped to his knees Renly realised that it was blood gushing out of his throat. When Ser Emmon fell onto the ground Renly saw a man in dark clothing wielding a dagger in his hand. The man stared at him with a murderous intent in his eyes. Panicking as he realised what was happening, Renly turned around to flee. However the young woman was now less than a foot from him with her right arm raised above her head. By the time Renly realised that she had a dagger in her right hand it was too late; the blade sliced into his throat, the sharp steel cutting his skin and entering his windpipe. Renly gasped at the searing pain that engulfed him before he tasted hot iron in his mouth. He dropped to his knees, the woman looking down at him with sickening glee in her eyes. "Oh dear, poor poor poor Renly," she said before leaning closer to his face. "Lord Baelish sends his regards." Renly's eyes widened even further as he realised just what was happening.

In the next instant the woman pulled her dagger out of Renly's throat, and then he toppled over as he felt his blood running down his chest. He gurgled as he hit the ground, clutching at his opened throat as he watched the woman wrap the dagger in a cloth. He watched as she pulled her dress up over her body, covering herself up before looking back towards Ser Emmon's killer. The man stepped over Renly as he lay dying, his blood seeping through his fingers. He watched as the woman leaned up and kissed the man on his lips before the two of them walked around the crates, disappearing from his darkening view. As they left Renly coughed and gasped, blood splashing onto the ground beneath him. As he lay there, his vision failing, he thought of those he was leaving behind, and he felt despair course through him. _No... no... Loras... Margaery... no... no... this is not... not... Littlefinger, you... bastard_ , were Renly Baratheon's last thoughts as his heart stopped beating and his eyes no longer saw.

* * *

Davos

The camp of Renly Baratheon was in utter chaos. When he woke up this morning Davos was expecting today to be his last day of life. He had urged Stannis to speak with Renly instead of fighting him and reach an accord, but Stannis as always just held firm to his decision to stand his ground and fight. An hour before the sun came up Davos woke up and left his tent to find Stannis, who was up wide awake with his squire Devan, Davos's fifth son, stood next to him. Davos's four older sons Dale, Allard, Matthos and Maric were all aboard their ships just off the coast as part of the naval blockade of Storm's End. For the next hour they saw to the preparations of the upcoming battle, making sure that everyone was fully prepared and ensuring that the earthworks to slow down Renly's knights were done. Then when the sun came up they waited. After two hours of waiting nervously for Renly's vanguard it became clear that something was wrong, so Stannis sent scouts to the camp. When they returned nearly an hour later they reported that Renly's army had raised peace banners and were waiting to speak to Stannis.

Davos rode alongside Stannis as they entered the camp of Renly's host. As they rode many men-at-arms and knights were bending the knee to Stannis, proclaiming him as King Stannis. The Houses of the Stormlands had declared for him, and so did some of the Reach lords too. Apart from Davos and Devan, Stannis was accompanied by Lord Ardrian Celtigar of Claw Isle, Lord Duram Bar Emmon of Sharp Point, and Ser Gilbert Farring, whose cousin Ser Godry has not returned from his failed mission to take Eddard Stark. _The arrogant fool is probably dead if that's the case_ , Davos thought. Also with them was Mellisandre, Stannis's Red Woman. Davos averted his eyes from her, not trusting the woman at all; he did not like her overzealous belief that her faith was the only true faith, he was uncomfortable by her actions of burning the sept on Dragonstone as well as the godswood, and he was wary of her influence over Stannis. After riding for twenty minutes Davos saw a Reach lord on horseback approaching them. The man wore a breastplate of grey steel and had a greatsword sheathed on his back. He had no hair on his head at all aside from a short bristly grey beard. Upon his breastplate was the image of a huntsman with a bow in hand facing left; the sigil of House Tarly.

"Lord Tarly," Stannis called out to the man who bowed his head briefly.

"King Stannis," the older man called out. Randyll Tarly was known to be the Reach's most capable and brilliant battle commander. He was the man who defeated Robert Baratheon at Ashford during the rebellion, the only defeat that King Robert had suffered.

"You call me King, but only yesterday were you calling Renly by that title. I see no sign of my brother, where is he?" Stannis spoke loudly. Lord Tarly looked grimly at Stannis before he answered.

"King Renly has been murdered your grace," the man said. Davos looked at Stannis and saw that he did not looked at all surprised, and when he looked at Mellisandre and saw the slight smile on her face his eye narrowed. _Did she 'see' Renly's death in her bloody visions? Or did she have a hand in it_? he wondered.

"How was he murdered, and by whom?" Stannis asked, prompting Davos to look back at Lord Tarly.

"He had been lured into a supply tent where he was stabbed in the throat," the lord said. "He was accompanied by Ser Emmon Cuy, who was also murdered. As for the whom, it seems that my liege lord was responsible." Davos was surprised at this, and by the look on his face so was Stannis.

"Why would Lord Tyrell murder Renly?" Stannis asked, his shock evident. "If I remember rightly it was his daughter that my brother married after he was crowned, which he supported as well I might add."

"I find it to be shocking as well your grace," Lord Tarly said. "However a servant girl reported seeing a man fitting Lord Tyrell's description walking away from the supply tent where your brother's body was found carrying a cloth that looked to be stained dark, as if it had blood on it." Davos cleared his throat as he looked at Stannis who turned to look at him questioningly. Realising that he wanted to ask a question Stannis nodded his head.

"My lord," Davos began. "This servant girl, would she tell King Stannis himself what she saw?" Lord Tarly looked at him indifferently before nodding his head.

"I can have her brought to you so you can question her your grace," he replied.

"Have her sent to me immediately Lord Tarly," Stannis spoke in his commanding voice. The Reach lord bowed his head and rode back.

Davos dismounted his horse along with Stannis and the others before making their way to a tent where they waited for the girl to be brought to them. They were joined by some of the lords and knights who until this morning were sworn to Renly. One of them, Lord Bryce Caron, knelt to Stannis and pledged his fealty there and then. Stannis told him to rise and asked where Lord Tyrell was, to which Lord Caron answered that he was being held under guard in his tent. As Lord Caron spoke a man who looked similar to him, but a little bit older and with pox scars on his face, approached and knelt to Stannis as well.

"And you are?" Stannis asked the knight. Lord Caron went to speak but was interrupted by the knight.

"I can answer for myself Bryce," the knight said as he stood up. "Apologies for my brusqueness your grace. I am Ser Rolland Storm, Lord Caron's half-brother."

"And my best knight," Lord Caron added as his sibling rose up.

"Ser Rolland," Stannis spoke. "I have heard much about your skill at arms. I trust that you will fight ably against my foes."

"Without hesitation your grace," the knight answered just as Lord Tarly entered with a young woman with waist length dirty brown hair following him.

"Your grace, this is Elayne," the lord said. "She claims to have seen a man fitting Lord Tyrell's description." Davos looked at the girl who seemed to be quite... sly, perhaps. There was an air of deviousness about her that unsettled him.

"What did you see last night?" Stannis asked her. The girl dipped into a wooden curtsey with her head dipped.

"I was walking around camp yer grace," she spoke, "when I saw a man leaving one o' the supply tents. He looked around while stood at the entrance before walking off, all the while wrapping something in a cloth that seemed ta be dark, as if with blood. As he walked away he held the cloth in 'is hand, walking away from the tent. I thought nothing o' it until word spread through the camp o' King Renly's murder. When I heard where 'is grace's body were found I approached Lord Tarly and told him what I saw last night." Davos frowned at the girl as she gave her testimony. She seemed quite calm for someone who was giving damning evidence against a highborn lord. _Almost too calm_ , he thought.

"This man, what did he look like?" Stannis asked. Davos folded his arms as the girl spoke.

"He had a wide belly your grace," she answered. "His hair was dark and curly, though I could not tell if it were brown or black as it were late in the evening when I saw 'im. He also 'ad a beard that were a triangular shape. That's about as much as I can tell ye, I'm sorry it's not much your grace." Turning to look at Stannis, Davos saw him clenching his jaw hard as he slowly nodded his head. He seemed satisfied by Elayne's evidence, which Davos was concerned about.

"Thank you for your testimony girl," Stannis said. "You may go." The girl gave another curtsey before leaving the tent. After she left Stannis turned to Lord Tarly. "Was this cloth found Lord Tarly?" Stannis asked. Davos looked at the lord who nodded his head.

"It was found inside Lord Tyrell's tent by his son Ser Loras," he answered. "It was wrapped around a bloodied dagger, which I believe was used to kill your brother with." Davos's eyes widened at this news. _If it is true that Lord Tyrell killed Renly then that will be crushing for Ser Loras_ , he thought. _But the question remains, why would he kill him? What would Lord Tyrell gain from killing his daughter's husband_?

"Your grace, may I have a word?" Davos asked his King. Stannis looked at him and nodded his head, walking to the far side of the tent so that the others would not hear what Davos was going to ask. "Something is not right here," he told Stannis, his voice quiet. "Why would Lord Tyrell murder Renly? It doesn't make any bloody sense."

"Do you think that someone possibly framed Lord Tyrell?" Stannis asked. Davos nodded his head.

"Unless some evidence were to show up proving his guilt I would say that it is highly likely that he is being wrongly accused of murder," Davos answered. Stannis grunted in response, folding his arms in front of him as he thought about what Davos said. After a moment he turned around to face Lord Tarly.

"Has anything been found to prove Lord Tyrell's guilt aside from the dagger?" Stannis asked.

"I have sent my men to scour the camp for any further evidence," Lord Tarly answered. "If they turn anything up..."

"LORD TARLY!" a voice shouted from outside the tent. At the shout everyone left the tent, walking outside to see a dozen knights gathered. One of them approached them, bowing his head.

"What is it?" Lord Tarly barked out.

"My apologies my lord, but your son Dickon discovered a letter that appeared to have been torn up and he believed that it has something to do with King Renly's murder," the knight spoke. "He is waiting for you at your tent, shall I bring him to you?"

"That will not be necessary ser," Stannis spoke then. "We shall go to young Dickon and see for ourselves." The knight bowed to Stannis as Lord Tarly turned to face him.

"Of course your grace," he said.

Lord Tarly and his knight led Stannis's group to the tent where his son was located. It took them ten minutes to get there, but when they did Davos saw a plain green tent with the Tarly huntsman in red decorating it. They entered the tent to find a boy about the same age as Devan who was stood over a table with several torn pieces of parchment that he was clearly putting back together. When Lord Tarly spoke to the lad he turned around and almost immediately bowed to Stannis.

"Your grace," he said, his voice quite firm for a young lad.

"We have heard that you have found a letter," Stannis stated. Dickon nodded his head rapidly.

"I found it not that far away from Lord Tyrell's tent your grace," he answered. "As you can see it is quite torn up, but I was able to make out some of the words on it, including Lord Tyrell's name." Davos raised a brow at the boy; he seemed quite enthusiastic and was pleased with his discovery. _The lad's eager to please people, but I think he wants his father's praise more_ , he thought as he watched Lord Tarly approach the table. After a few moments the lord looked down at his son.

"How on earth did you manage to get the letter back together in the right places?" he asked, eyes wide with astonishment. The youth looked down at the ground, and when he spoke he had a nervous tone to him.

"Sam taught me how to solve simple puzzles before he left for the Wall, father," he said. Looking at Lord Tarly Davos could have sworn he saw a look of distaste at the mention of the name. _Is Sam a relative of theirs_? he wondered. Lord Tarly grunted after a moment.

"I never thought that he would ever prove useful for anything," the lord said. He then looked at the letter and read it over before looking at Stannis. "Your grace, this letter is from Lord Baelish, Joffrey's master of coin. The letter reads that he is thankful of Lord Tyrell's pledge of assistance and that he shall be rewarded for his loyalty after he has dealt with Renly. He goes on to say that he will let him decide how to deal with Renly." Davos looked back at Stannis and saw the look of cold anger in his eyes. Stannis ground his teeth as he walked closer to the table and read the letter himself. After a moment Stannis stepped back.

"I always told Renly to never trust the Tyrell's," he said. "I never thought that this would happen." Davos watched his King look down at Dickon Tarly. "You have my thanks for your assistance young Dickon. And you as well Lord Tarly. But the question remains, where does the Reach stand?" Davos looked at Lord Tarly who took a step back and looked at Stannis carefully, as if taking the measure of him. After a long moment the lord bent the knee to him.

"I cannot speak for all of the Reach your grace," he said, his head bowed. "I fought against your brother King Robert at Ashford during the rebellion. I laid siege to Storm's End while you defended the castle in your brother's name. King Robert was worthy as are you your grace, but my own liege lord it shames me to say is unworthy of my fealty. House Tyrell are shamed by Lord Mace's actions, and I will not be bound to their will anymore. I pledge my sword to you your grace, and my life too if the gods should demand it. I ask for nothing in return your grace." Davos was quite surprised by this sudden turn of events, and by the looks of it so was Stannis.

"I accept your fealty Lord Tarly," he stated loudly. "Now I command you to prepare the camp to assist in ending the siege of Storm's End. Have my brother's body brought forward so I can prove to the castellan that Renly is dead." Lord Tarly stood up and bowed to Stannis before leaving the tent, calling his son to follow him.

As Lord Tarly left Stannis told Devan to gather the pieces of the torn letter and to follow him outside. Davos helped his son to gather the pieces and the two followed their King as he led them back to the tent where they had waited for the witness. Davos was still sceptical of the girl, but this letter seemed to have both Stannis and Lord Tarly convinced of Lord Tyrell's guilt. Devan put the letter back together again on the table piece by piece and then read it himself. Davos was thankful that his son had taken to his studies well, including his lessons on reading and writing. Devan had learned his letters alongside Stannis's daughter, the Princess Shireen. The little girl was staying put at Dragonstone where she has grown up all of her life, locked away by her mother Queen Selyse. As an infant Shireen had been afflicted with a deadly sickness called Greyscale, which leaves its victims with cracked skin that was grey in colour and had the feel of stone to it. Shireen had a Greyscale scar covering her left cheek and the upper part of her neck. She was a quiet girl who kept to herself, no doubt as a result of being locked away.

"How good is your reading father?" Devan asked him, drawing Davos back to the present. Davos chuckled slightly, ruffling his son's hair.

"You know I can't read son," he said. "Go on, what does the letter say?" Devan looked down at the letter again and took a deep breath.

"It reads, 'To Lord Mace Tyrell, I thank you for your pledge of support and assistance to the rightful King. His grace King Joffrey is pleased that you have seen reason and are committed to ensuring that the traitors Stannis and Renly are brought to justice. He has agreed to consider taking your lovely daughter Lady Margaery as a potential wife, as well as reward you appropriately for your services. By his authority you are permitted to deal with Renly as you see fit, so long as you assist in crushing Stannis when the time comes. We are in your debt my lord. Lord Petyr Baelish, master of coin to King Joffrey of the House Baratheon', and all of the other titles." Devan snorted after having read the letter out loud. "Makes me sick just reading that," he said after a moment.

"The abomination is desperate," Stannis barked. "His advisor's have played a smart game this time by playing on Lord Tyrell's greed. They won't be able to use the same trick with me." Davos hummed in agreement as he turned to face Stannis. The letter was indeed damning, as was the presence of the dagger in Lord Tyrell's tent. But the girl's testimony still troubled Davos, as was one other thing.

"Your grace, one thing doesn't sit well with me," he said after thinking about it. Stannis looked at him, back straight and hands behind his back. "The knight who was with Renly. How could Lord Tyrell manage to kill both men? Either he would have killed Renly first and then gone for the knight who would've cut him down, or he would've killed the knight first and then attacked Renly, who would've called out for help and drawn attention. It just doesn't make sense to me." Stannis regarded him with a frown before he nodded his head.

"I agree," he said. "Either Lord Tyrell is being set up to take the blame, or he had help with killing Renly." That made sense to Davos, but it did raise the question of who could have helped Lord Tyrell with killing Renly and the knight who guarded him. As he was about to speak a knight with the Fossoway apple on his armour burst into the tent.

"You grace," he said breathlessly. "Forgive the intrusion, but my cousin Ser Bryan has been found dead." Stannis glared at the knight, clearly annoyed at the intrusion.

"How is your cousin's death important to me ser? Did he have anything to say in regards to my brother's death?" Stannis spoke with a loud voice, his tone full of anger. Davos could not blame him, but he felt sorry for the knight at the same time.

"I am sorry your grace, but he has killed himself it seems, and he has left a letter confessing to his part in murdering King Renly." Davos was stunned by this news.

"Is this a jape ser?" Stannis growled.

"No your grace," came the reply, before the knight held up a roll of parchment. "This is the letter that he has written." Stannis looked to Devan and jerked his head towards the knight. Devan wandered over to the knight and took the letter from him before reading it out loud.

"' To whomever finds this letter. This is my confession. I have committed a grave sin. I helped my liege lord, Mace Tyrell of Highgarden, in murdering our King, Renly Baratheon. I helped by killing Ser Emmon Cuy of his Kingsguard, slitting that noble knight's throat and thus allowing Lord Tyrell to murder our King. I had allowed myself to assist a kingslayer under the false belief that he would allow me the right to marry his daughter, the beautiful Lady Margaery. However I was deceived. I allowed my own liege to manipulate me and only now do I realise my actions to be a grave sin worse than base treason. My love for Lady Margaery was known to Lord Tyrell, and he used it to convince me to commit the treason that I was part of. I have since learned that Lord Tyrell intended to wed his daughter to Joffrey the False King. I can never forgive myself for what I have done, and I know that my love shall never forgive me. May the Seven who are One judge me accordingly. Ser Bryan Fossoway'." Devan handed the letter to Stannis who read it himself.

"Very well then, there is nothing else for it," Stannis said. "I thank you for informing me of this ser. You may leave, and inform Lord Tarly that I want Mace Tyrell to be brought before me."

"Yes your grace," the knight said before taking off.

"Ser Davos," Stannis barked. "What do you make of this letter?" Davos thought over the contents of the letter. Everything seemed rather convenient with what has happened.

"It's a little too convenient your grace," he decided as always to be honest. "This letter and the one before it, the girl's testimony, and the dagger. It could be that Littlefinger has planned this rather well. He did send that letter that was torn up, what's to say that he did not send the men to carry out the deed?"

"A dead man's confession and the word of a girl who saw someone who looked like Lord Tyrell, as well as the dagger that killed my brother found in his tent and a torn letter of correspondence from Baelish that was found near his tent," Stannis stated through clenched teeth. "That seems compelling to me."

"The written word of a dead man might not be his word your grace," Davos said bluntly. "The evidence could be planted. I know you strive for justice, but you must consider mercy for the man. He may very well be innocent." It was then that the wretched woman chose to speak.

"If he is indeed innocent then he will have no problem telling the truth in front of his lords and his grace," Mellisandre said. "If he is guilty then he will show his guilt with his fear. An innocent man has nothing to fear after all." Davos glared at the woman before looking back at Stannis, who looked at Mellisandre intently before looking back at him.

"Order a scaffold to be set up with as much wood as can be spared," he ordered before turning around. Davos felt a shiver run the course of his back then as he knew what Stannis was ordering.

"Your grace," he tried, but Stannis just walked out of the tent, followed closely by a smiling Mellisandre. _That damnable woman_.

Several hours later the scaffold was built with a central post. Many men gathered around as the moon rose up in the night sky. Davos stood beside Devan, a surge of anxiousness washing over him. This felt wrong to him; he was not certain of Lord Tyrell's guilt. He reached up and grabbed the pouch around his neck that held the finger bones from his left hand. At the end of the rebellion Stannis had awarded Davos with a knighthood and some land on Cape Wrath, as well as letting him choose Seaworth as the name of his House. This was a reward for smuggling in various foodstuffs into Storm's End after breaking through the Redwyne blockade, mainly vegetables including turnips, cabbages, carrots and onions. However Davos had to pay a price before he could be rewarded; the first joints of each finger on his left hand were cut off as punishment for his past crimes. He was a smuggler by trade after all, and a criminal cannot be rewarded for service to a lord unless he has paid the price for his crimes. Davos had agreed to allow the punishment so long as Stannis wielded the blade that took his fingers. Davos has kept the bones of his severed fingers ever since, saying that those fingers brought good fortune to his wife and sons.

"You cannot do this!" a voice shouted loudly. As everyone looked to the source of the noise Davos sighed. He saw Lord Mace Tyrell being dragged by two Baratheon men-at-arms, with Lord Tarly behind him. "I am the Lord of Highgarden! My daughter is the Queen! Unhand me at once damn you!" The men stopped before the scaffold where Stannis stood beside Mellisandre. During the afternoon as the scaffold was built half of the host had been marched to further besiege Storm's End while the rest of the host stayed at the camp. Everyone who remained had pledged fealty to Stannis, but some had gone. Most of Renly's Kingsguard had fled, including Ser Robar Royce, Brienne of Tarth and Ser Loras, while the Dondarrion brothers marched south to Blackhaven.

"Mace Tyrell," Stannis stated in a loud, clear voice. "You stand accused of murdering my brother Renly Baratheon. Did you kill my brother?" Lord Tyrell blinked stupidly at Stannis, struggling to get free of the grasp of the men-at-arms who held him.

"A... absolutely not!" the lord yelled. "He was my... my Margaery's husband, my... my King... the only King worthy of me! I never killed him. Never!" Lord Tyrell stammered out his denial, sweat gleaming in the firelight as it poured down his brow.

"A witness saw you leaving the tent where my brother's body was found," Stannis continued. "Ser Bryan Fossoway took his own life out of shame, leaving a letter confessing his guilt in assisting you in killing Renly. A bloodstained dagger and a torn letter from Lord Baelish thanking you for pledging yourself to Joffrey were also found. What say you to that?"

"L... lies!" Lord Tyrell sputtered. "Ser Bryan is lying if indeed he did write that letter! And whoever this witness was who saw me is mistaken! And who... whoever put that dagger there is the one who murdered Renly, but tha... that was not me! Never me!" Mellisandre stepped forward then and reached out to Lord Tyrell, stroking her hand down his cheek. The lord flinched at her touch, trembling with fear.

"You quiver with fear Lord Mace," she spoke. "What are you afraid of? Is it me you fear? King Stannis? Or do you fear that the Lord of Light has seen your treacherous nature? You are afraid because you are guilty." Davos frowned at that, not liking what the Red Woman was playing at.

"I care not what your Lord of Light says!" Lord Tyrell spat. "And I am... am not guilty of anything! Your grace, I fought against your House during the rebellion because the Mad King ordered me to, but I... I did not relish it! I have put the past behind me in the interest of peace! I ha... had no reason to kill Renly, he was a good man! A good man!" It seemed that the lord's words were falling on deaf ears as Stannis nodded to the men holding Lord Tyrell. "Wait!" he shouted as he was dragged to the scaffold. The men-at-arms tied him to the central post as he shouted, begged and cried out in fear. The Reach lords that were there seemed uncomfortable with what was happening, even Lord Tarly had a look of discomfort in his eyes. But none of them stepped forward to help their liege lord.

"Gods, I can't watch this," Devan muttered as he looked down at the ground. Davos leant down to whisper in his ear.

"Keep your head up and your face forward," he told him. "Look away with your eyes lad." Devan nodded his head, doing as he was told as Mellisandre began her long speech while a man-at-arms walked over with a flaming brand.

"No, no!" Lord Tyrell yelled, his voice breaking with emotion. "Please, oh gods help me! Help me!" _No help will come for you my lord_ , Davos thought sadly as he looked away. As he did he saw someone stood by one of the tents nearby; it was the girl who claimed to have seen Lord Tyrell. She looked from the screaming lord to Davos and gave a wide grin before turning around and walking off.

"Stay here," Davos told Devan as he decided to follow the girl. "If Stannis asks where I've gone tell him I had to find a tree." If Devan had heard him or not Davos did not know, nor did he have time to know as he ran after the girl.

"NO! NO NO NO NO NO PLEASE!" Lord Tyrell screamed as Mellisandre no doubt set the scaffold alight. Davos could hear her cursed chanting even as he ran after the girl, his dagger drawn just in case he needed it. He saw the girl roughly thirty yards away from where he was, but as he neared she turned the corner and disappeared, forcing Davos to run after her even more. He reached the corner and turned around it and saw her again at the far end, and again as he got closer she would turn the corner and disappear, making Davos run again. This continued for a minute, but after that he had lost her.

"Damn it!" he hissed. "Seven fucking hells!" As Davos looked around him he heard the horrifying sounds of the Lord of Highgarden screaming for mercy.

"PLEASE, OH GODS PLEASE SAVE ME!" he cried out. Davos could hear the poor man even from where he was. "I DON'T WANT TO DIE! HELP ME! SEVEN WHO ARE ONE HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEE!" As Lord Mace Tyrell shrieked in agony as the flames no doubt engulfed him, Davos heard the blasted Red Woman's chanting.

"... FOR THE NIGHT IS DARK AND FULL OF TERRORS!" she called out, her voice distant from where Davos was stood but clear enough even as the lord screamed in sheer agony and terror, screaming for his mother and for the gods to save him. _The gods have forsaken you Lord Mace_ , Davos thought as he heard Mellisandre's chant being echoed by those who believed in her faith. _They have forsaken us all I fear_ , he believed as he came to the conclusion that they had just killed an innocent man.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** And now we have Renly gone as well as Mace Tyrell too.

To clarify for those who will be wondering 'what the hell?' in regards to Lord Randyll Tarly turning his cloak: the Lord of Horn Hill may have been loyal to Mace but he did swear an oath to Renly, and as far as everyone (apart from Davos) is concerned Mace had murdered Renly after being tempted by Littlefinger. Therefore as far as Lord Tarly is concerned his liege lord has betrayed his King, and I am certain that Randyll would have no problem with seeing justice done upon his own liege lord (a liege lord who has taken credit for HIS efforts during Robert's Rebellion, so that could also be a contributing factor as well). That's not to say that Lord Tarly is comfortable with how Mace was executed nor is he okay with Stannis's new faith. Right now he is focusing on what he can deal with for the time being and will let others deal with what he cannot deal with.

This whole thing is part of Littlfinger's plot to remove Renly and ensure that the more military minded individuals will work to take King's Landing and remove Joffrey and his mother. Baelish also knows that Ned is not likely to bend the knee to Stannis so therefore the war will continue, which works in Littlefinger's interests. Though even I don't think that he would expect Tarly and a few more of the Reach lords to turn their cloak.

Next chapter we will see Robb dealing with the Serretts of Silverhill in the southern part of the Westerlands, and then we will see what's happening in Highgarden when news of Renly and Mace's deaths reaches Margaery. We will also see what happens with Loras and why he was not there with his father in the lead up to his execution. It will be a while until then though.


	15. A Crushed Rose

**Author's Note:** Update 1 of 2 for today. So we will start with Dorne before seeing what Robb and everyone else is up to.

Oberyn's POV took me a long time to type up and sort out and I am (I confess) still not happy with it. It's not my best work but I really cannot think of how else to do it. Other than that I hope you enjoy the rest of this chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter 15**

 **A Crushed Rose**

* * *

Oberyn

Ellaria screamed out her joy as she came crashing down from the heights of her pleasure. She sat astride his lap, her body quivering before she all but fell onto Oberyn's chest. She giggled before pressing her lips to his, her kiss full of passion and desire. Oberyn chuckled before he thrust his tongue into her mouth. Their kiss intensified just as a knock on the door interrupted them. Tearing himself away from Ellaria with a grunt of annoyance, Oberyn sat up from the bed and gathered some clothes.

"Prince Oberyn, they are waiting for you," a voice called through the door. Oberyn suppressed a sigh as he poured himself a small measure of wine. He emptied the wine quickly before putting the cup down onto the table where he took it from.

"Very well," he called back, irate at being interrupted. "I shall make my way there soon." Oberyn pulled on some small clothes before turning to the rack where his armour was on display. Ellaria was up and dressed, a simple gown to protect her modesty, and walked over to where Oberyn's armour was.

"You need to get ready quickly Oberyn," she said as she stroked her fingers over the leather of his armour. "You need to be at your best." Oberyn smirked at her words as he wandered over to the armour rack.

"We have time I believe," he said as he wrapped his arms around her and let his hand wander down to her wet entrance. He felt her hand grab his wrist and pull him away.

"Later," she said, "or I'll never allow you to pull your cock out me, and then Doran will not be impressed." She wriggled out of his embrace and walked over to the other side of the room. Oberyn huffed as he took the armour and began to put it on, one piece at a time. It took him half an hour to put the armour on with some help from Ellaria, but when he was done his whole body was covered in hardened leather from his upper body to his feet.

Oberyn walked out of his rooms with Ellaria bedside him with her arm hooked through his. They walked along the hallway towards the training grounds where the fight was to take place. As they approached the door that led outside Oberyn saw his third daughter Tyene approach him with a wicked smile on her lovely face. Her eyes were the only thing that betrayed her mischievousness, and they were wide and alight with glee.

"I hope you are ready father," she said as she stood before him. "Ser Amory seems to be anything but ready. Apparently he had been vomiting a fair bit this morning after having broke his fast, and his bowels were quite loose too." Oberyn suppressed the urge to sigh; he knew that Tyene would slip some poison into Lorch's meal despite him explicitly telling her not to do anything that would lead to Lorch dying. He wanted to kill the cretin himself, but he knew that Tyene would do something that would help him, or at least in her opinion it would help him. Before he could respond a guardsman approached him with a spear in hand.

"My prince, when you are ready," he said. Oberyn nodded his head at the man before looking back at his daughter, who was just standing there smiling innocently. _No point in chastising her_ , he conceded as he walked on to the doorway. The door opened and he stepped outside to the training grounds, where he saw dozens of people, lowborn and highborn alike, gathering in anticipation of the fight. Oberyn walked over to where Doran was sat under a shaded area with Arianne and Quentyn sat on either side of him. Trystane was seated next to Arianne while Areo was standing behind Doran. Oberyn stopped before his elder brother and bowed to him.

"I am ready brother," he said. Doran looked up at him and gave a brief nod of his head.

"We are just waiting for Ser Amory to arrive," he said. "Tyene no doubt slipped in a small amount of poison into his meal. Not a fatal dose, but it was enough to make the man sick. Despite her actions Tyene could well have made Lorch a more dangerous foe to fight. Whatever you do do not let your anger rule you."

"I won't Doran," Oberyn said in reply before looking over his shoulder. "Have you given anymore thought about our terms to the Starks?" he asked as he watched the doors that Lorch would come through when he was ready. After a moment he turned to face Doran to see him sat with a hand stroking his chin.

"Daenerys Targaryen has vanished," he began. "Her Dothraki husband was slain by a sellsword of the Company of the Rose. That group attacked the Dothraki as they were busy getting ready for another attack on some poor village. From what I hear the entire company had been involved; how twelve-thousand men could defeat a Dothraki host that outnumbered them many times over I don't know." Oberyn smirked as he folded his arms and leant his side against the wall. "As such I see no reason to continue with our old plan. There will never be a Targaryen restoration, so our plans have to change. And Stark is not our enemy." Doran looked up at Oberyn and gave him a serious look. "Once this war is over I will travel to meet with Eddard Stark and discuss our terms. Unless he is willing to accept Arianne as a suitable bride for his son we will have to see about betrothing Quentyn to one of his daughters." Oberyn moved closer to Doran and knelt down next to him.

"The eldest girl, Princess Sansa, is about twelve years old, while Princess Arya, the younger girl, is only ten," he told Doran. "If he will allow a match it would likely be one involving Sansa."

"I could go with you father," Arianne said as she leant closer to them. "Let me meet with this Young Wolf and see if I can charm him." Oberyn nearly snorted then as Doran gave his eldest a withering glance.

"Even if you could charm the young man, his father will not take too kindly to you trying to seduce his heir," he said. "Furthermore, with the change in circumstances you shall more than likely remain as my heir. Unless you really wish to become the lady of a lesser House?" Arianne lounged back in her seat with a pout, looking off to the side as she made herself comfortable. Quentyn shuffled in his seat as he looked at his father.

"So where does this leave me exactly father?" he asked. Doran looked at his son and shook his head slightly.

"We shall see what happens in the future Quentyn," he said. "It will do us good to have another branch of House Martell. With his sons King Eddard will no doubt look to establish more new branches of his own House. So we shall see what happens." Just then the crowd let out a roar that drowned Oberyn's ears. Looking back over his shoulder he saw Lorch being led in, swaying slightly. Oberyn looked back to Doran who nodded his head. "We will discuss the terms that we will deliver to Stark later. For now though, go and send him to the Stranger Oberyn," he told him, pointing his finger at Lorch. Oberyn gave his brother a bow before turning and walking back to where Ellaria was stood with Tyene next to her. Oberyn saw his Elia standing amongst the crowd, but thankfully he saw no sign of his three youngest daughters. _This is something that they don't need to see_ , he thought.

As he approached his lover and his third daughter he looked over to Lorch, who was dressed in heavy plate armour, a half helm on his head, and was being given a sword to fight with. He looked pale and sweaty, and his eyes were unfocused. Oberyn shook his head before looking at Tyene who just gave him her usual smile.

"Manticore venom father?" she asked as she held out a cloth and bottle, her hands gloved so as not to get anything on her skin. Oberyn gave a sigh as he nodded his head. Tyene began to apply the poison to the blade of Oberyn's spear, slowly pouring the liquid onto the cloth before gently rubbing said cloth over the blade as if she were polishing it. Oberyn looked at Ellaria and took her in his arms, giving her a passionate kiss which earned him a few cheers. He broke the kiss reluctantly before reaching for his wine cup and taking a drink from it. The Dornish red was sweet, and left a slight sour after-taste in his mouth.

"Remember your promise to me Oberyn," Ellaria said as she stroked her fingers down his cheek. "Do not get careless. I want you back inside me tonight." She leaned up to him and kissed his cheek before whispering in his ear. "I want you to fuck me for the rest of the night, seeing as I won't be seeing you for months." Oberyn gave Ellaria a sly smile as he leant back.

"Maybe you shall find yourself carrying another girl for me," he said in a teasing voice. Ellaria smiled widely as she brushed a finger down his chin.

"Or maybe the gods shall give you a son this time," she said. Oberyn smirked at her as he stepped back to face Lorch.

"We shall see my love," he said. "I find it more than likely that the gods will give me a ninth daughter." A trumpet blared in the background, and the crowd fell silent.

A septon stepped forward and began to speak to the crowd then, droning on about the gods showing mercy and justice. As he spoke he called upon the Seven to watch over both combatants, to give strength to the sword of the one whose cause was just, and to punish the guilty accordingly. The septon looked to Lorch and asked him if he would admit his guilt and accept Doran's judgement.

"Just get on with it," he wheezed. After that the septon looked at Doran and asked if he would withdraw his accusations and allow him to go free. Oberyn tried not to laugh at the septon's words as he was required to speak them. He could not stop the snigger that left his mouth, but he managed to keep quiet as Doran shook his head. The septon finished saying his long speech and gave a quick prayer, while Oberyn took his spear from Tyene and gave Ellaria a swift kiss.

"Come back to me," she begged.

"Always," he told her sincerely before stepping forward to meet Lorch. The Westerman staggered towards him, shaking his head in a bid to steady himself. Oberyn started to twirl his spear around him, spinning and waving it around his body. He did this for several seconds, and when he stopped two things happened; the crowed cheered and applauded his skill, and Amory Lorch bent over double and emptied his stomach, vomiting over the ground. Some amongst the crowd laughed at this display, while others looked very disgusted. Oberyn smirked as he watched his foe stand upright. Lorch walked over to him, swaying as if he were drunk.

"Come on," he slurred, sounding like he was indeed drunk. "Come on and... and fight me... me." Oberyn twirled his spear again as he stepped closer to Lorch.

"You have confessed your crimes," Oberyn said as he stopped his twirl. "You have admitted that you were following Lord Lannister's orders. Confess again and I shall make this quick." He knew Lorch would not confess a second time, and he was hoping that it would be enough to provoke him into taking a swing at him.

"Argh, fuck you you Dornish cunt," Lorch spat before launching himself at Oberyn. He raised his sword above his head and staggered forward, taking a swing at Oberyn who danced out of the way at the last second. Lorch snarled at him before slashing his sword wildly at Oberyn, who spun around and thrust his spear at the man, the steel tip sliding across the knight's breastplate.

"Confess," he taunted him. Lorch swung at Oberyn several times, each blow easily parried away by his spear. "Say it. You dragged my niece out from under her father's bed." Lorch thrust his sword at Oberyn's face, missing him when he ducked down and rolled forward. As he stood up Oberyn swung the haft of his spear into the back of Lorch's leg. "You pulled her into the middle of the room." Lorch roared as he tried to stand and hack at Oberyn, but the knight ended up falling forward and hitting the ground. "You stabbed her half a hundred times." Lorch slowly stood up to his feet.

"Shut up and fight me!" he bellowed as he turned around to face Oberyn. Lorch managed four, five, six swings of his sword, each either missing Oberyn or being parried away by his spear. Oberyn pushed Lorch back with a series of thrusts and swipes, forcing Lorch to step back and slip on the puddle of his own vomit. Lorch nearly fell down, but he kept himself on his feet and made an overhead swing at Oberyn, who simply stepped aside and slammed the blunt end of his spear into Lorch's face. The knight cried out and once again swung wildly, the edge of his sword just parting the air where Oberyn had stood but a moment ago.

"You dragged her from her father's bed," Oberyn said again as he thrust and swung his spear, each of his strikes being clumsily parried by Lorch. "You pulled her into the middle of the room." He slashed the spear tip at Lorch's eye, nearly slicing into it but only scraping his helm. "You stabbed her half a hundred times." Lorch roared out as he swung savagely at Oberyn, the flat of his blade hitting Oberyn on the arm. Oberyn spun and danced out of the way of the second strike. _That'll leave a bruise_ , he thought bitterly, glancing at an anxious looking Ellaria. _I need to be more careful_ , he chastised himself before going back on the offensive. Lorch charged at him with his sword down by his side ready to lunge, so Oberyn stepped to the right and slammed his spear haft into Lorch's left knee before stabbing the spear tip into his left arm. Lorch howled in agony as the tip tore into the joint of his elbow where his armour afforded little protection.

"BASTARD!" he screamed as he slashed his blade at Oberyn in a bid to remove his head. Oberyn pulled his spear free and ducked under the blow before standing up and pushing Lorch away from him.

"You dragged her from her father's bed. You pulled her into the middle of the room. You stabbed her half a hundred times." Lorch shouted an inarticulate battle cry as he threw himself at Oberyn, his shoulder slamming into Oberyn's chest and nearly sending him falling onto his back. As he fell he spun his body around and rolled forward, moving away from Lorch. He stood back up to his feet and turned to face Lorch, seeing his spear several feet behind his foe. Lorch took advantage of Oberyn being disarmed and began to swing like a madman at him. Oberyn stood still for a few moment before seizing his chance and running towards Lorch. The knight thrust his weapon at him but at the last second Oberyn slid down under Lorch's attack and went past him, stopping by his spear. He grabbed the haft of his weapon and brought it up in time to stop Lorch's blade from splitting his head in two. The strike put a nick into the haft, but no more. _Lorch's strength wanes_ , he realised, knowing that the manticore venom was doing its job. Oberyn pushed his spear to the side and aimed the steel edge of the spear at the knight's calf muscle. The steel cut into the leather and drew blood, forcing another howl of agony from Lorch. _Time to end this_ , Oberyn thought as he stood up and walked away from Lorch.

"You fucker!" the knight hissed in pain.

"YOU DRAGGED HER FROM HER FATHER'S BED!" Oberyn roared, his voice loud and full of unrestrained anger. "YOU PULLED HER INTO THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM!" he repeated as Lorch yelled as he tried to charge at him but Oberyn stepped around him and slashed his spear tip along the back of the leg, hamstringing the knight and sending him to his knees. Oberyn walked around him and moved to stand five yards from him. He raised his spear and began to run. "YOU STABBED HER HALF A HUNDRED TIMES!" he bellowed out in rage as he slammed his spear down into Lorch's throat, the steel slicing through his windpipe.

Oberyn stood and watched as Amory Lorch gasped for air, his blood erupting from his mouth and the opened throat. The knight remained on his knees as Oberyn held his spear, keeping him upright. He gargled and gasped, and Oberyn saw tears filling the wretch's eyes. A few moments later Oberyn got a whiff of an awful smell, and looking down he saw a small puddle forming from Lorch's knee. _He's pissed himself_ , he thought with disgust. _I wonder if he's shit himself too_? After a few more moments of struggling Lorch finally stilled, his arms falling limp by his side and his head lilting to the side. With a hard tug Oberyn freed his spear from the dead man, and then the corpse of Amory Lorch dropped forward with a dull thud. The crowd cheered in approval as Oberyn walked over to where his brother was sat and knelt before him. The Prince of Dorne held out his hand and soon the crowd fell silent.

"The gods have made their judgement known," Doran called out. "Now my sister and her children have been avenged. Justice is done." More cheers went up from the crowd then. Oberyn looked up at Doran and saw him give the faintest of smiles. "Rest now, my brothers and sister of Dorne, for tomorrow we march, and bring our fury upon the Lannisters." The crowd continued to cheer then as Oberyn stood up and walked over to his paramour and daughter. He would speak with Doran later on, but right now he only wanted to speak with Ellaria and Tyene. As he approached them he saw Elia was standing beside them, with Ellaria looking at her with a scrunched up face. _I wonder who was out riding this morning_? Oberyn thought with amusement. He handed his spear to a squire who took the weapon and dipped the tip into a bucket filled with water to cleanse the blade.

"Are you alright?" Ellaria asked him as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Oberyn let out a deep breath before he answered.

"I'll be fine now," he said as he wrapped his arms around his lover, kissing her forehead. He looked at his girls and saw the look of mischief in Tyene's eyes. "Tell me child, what poison did you put into Lorch's meal that made him vomit at the sight of me twirling my spear?" he asked her. Tyene gave a soft giggle as she looked away, as if she were shy. She looked back at him and gave Oberyn a warm smile.

"Amory Lorch wanted quite a big meal to break his fast, so I made sure that he had as much food as he could want," she said. "I may have accidentally poured in a few drops of strong alcohol into the food, as well as having his cup refilled with fortified wine, which he started drinking first as the food was not ready yet." Oberyn looked wide eyed at his daughter, surprised at how he did not see it. _That's why he seemed drunk_ , he thought. _He was swaying like a drunk because he was drunk_. Oberyn chuckled as he pulled away from Ellaria's embrace.

"Right then, let's go and get cleaned up. No doubt there will plenty of food for tonight." Oberyn walked along with his arm over Ellaria's shoulder and Tyene beside him, heading back inside. He looked over his shoulder at Elia who was looking at him as they walked, her face serious. Oberyn flashed her a smile and waved her over to stand between him and Tyene. His Elia returned the smile and skipped over to him, walking alongside him. Ellaria sniffed loudly and looked at her first daughter, before pulling a face of disgust.

"Seven hells Elia, could you please have a bath before sitting at dinner tonight?" she demanded. Oberyn laughed at his lover's annoyance and grinned at Elia.

"Don't worry my love," he said. "We'll just sit by the windows." Elia laughed at Oberyn's dismissive response, earning him a slap on the arm that Lorch managed to land his sword on. He winced slightly but responded by slapping Ellaria's rear.

"Oh gods, could you two wait until after you are alone?" Elia demanded with a groan, making Oberyn laugh even more.

* * *

Robb

The wind blew through his hair as he sat atop his war horse. Robb looked toward the castle in the distance and waited for the occupants to emerge, hopefully to surrender to him. For the last four weeks now Robb has marched his half of the host south to capture castles of the Westerlands, with Lord Jason Mallister leading the other half of the host north and taking the castles of Ashemark, the Crag and Banefort with minimal losses. Robb so far has taken Hornvale, the seat of House Brax, and Deep Den, the seat of House Lydden.

Taking Hornvale was easy enough for Robb as he had both the eldest and youngest sons of Lord Andros Brax as prisoners; Tytos, who was now the new Lord Brax after his father died at Riverrun, and Ser Flement, whose two younger sons were living in Hornvale. Their uncle Ser Rupert was one of the many Westermen killed at Oxcross while their brother Ser Robert had died from injuries he took at the Humbling, so only Tytos had authority over the garrison. After having spoken with the new Lord of Hornvale Robb was glad when he agreed to have the garrison surrender, and twenty minutes after letting Lord Tytos enter his home the gates of the castle opened and the garrison walked out throwing down their arms. After the yielding of Hornvale Robb allowed Tytos's brother Flement to remain at Hornvale along with his youngest son, but Robb demanded that the second son Walder be sent to the Golden Tooth where he would be taken with Lady Lefford to Riverrun to ensure the good behaviour of House Brax. Lord Tytos had reluctantly agreed, despite his brother's protests. Robb did feel disgusted with himself for laying down the demand, but his father had told him to take hostages from the Houses of the Westerlands to ensure their compliance.

Taking Deep Den was not as simple as taking Hornvale was. Lord Lewys Lydden was one of the many lords taken captive by Robb's host at the Humbling, but he had been an uncooperative prisoner. When Robb had the man brought before the walls of Deep Den he told him what was likely to happen if he did not convince his kin to surrender. Lord Lewys just glared at Robb and told him that he would never take the castle. After failing to convince the man Robb tried to negotiate with Lord Lewys's young son Martyn Lydden, but the boy who was only a year younger than Robb had told him that his efforts would be wasted. Robb reluctantly began the plan to assault and seize Deep Den, and after three days of planning he launched his assault. The attack had cost him three-hundred or so men, but the garrison of Deep Den was overwhelmed and put to the sword. Martyn Lydden had been wounded during the fighting but was taken prisoner and held in the dungeons of Deep Den. Lord Lewys was escorted back to the Golden Tooth to be taken to Riverrun while his family became prisoners in their own home.

Now Robb was sitting outside the castle of Silverhill, the seat of House Serrett. Robb and his army arrived at midday yesterday, and had begun to set up the siege lines. Robb sent Olyvar ahead with the peace banner to send word for his wish to speak terms, but a young knight had told Olyvar to leave. Robb had his host completely surround Silverhill and posted roving patrols to keep an eye out for trouble, which he was glad he did; Ser Jasper Redfort who had rode with Robb's host with his knights and men-at-arms had reported to Robb this morning that one of his patrols had ambushed and eliminated a party of Westermen who were scouts for a larger host of three-thousand men. In response Robb sent Ser Jasper with five-thousand men to destroy the approaching host. Ser Jasper returned a few hours later with news of the enemy host's destruction and the death of their leader, who it turned out was a blasted Crakehall. _Just how many Crakehalls are there_? he thought, grateful that he had sent Harrion and Torrhen north with Lord Mallister's host; Harrion in particular would use the presence of a Crakehall as an excuse to ride off to their castle and butcher the Crakehalls.

After the battle that took place at Oxcross Harrion had become a bitter and cold man, his eyes full of anger. After the meeting before they marched for the Golden Tooth Robb had decided to keep an eye on his friend, worried that he would do something stupid. As it turned out Harrion become a touch reclusive, only speaking to his brother Torrhen in private and only speaking when spoken to during important meetings. Robb spoke with Harrion the day before the host split in two, and was glad he decided to send Harrion and his forces north with Lord Mallister's host; Harrion had made it clear that he would kill anyone whose name was Crakehall, no matter whether they were fighting or not. Such an admission had concerned Robb, but he was not as concerned as Torrhen was. The younger Karstark, who was being called the Boar-Hewer by the men, told him that he was worried that Harrion's anger would get him killed as he had become reckless since their father's death. Robb was not worried about Torrhen because he knew that the younger Karstark would only kill men during battle, but Harrion was a different matter.

Ser Jasper had taken two score prisoners from the host that he had ambushed, including a man with the Serrett peacock on his shield. The man identified himself as Ser Daven Serrett, the younger brother of Ser Jason Serrett who was in charge of the garrison of Silverhill. Their father, Lord Malcom Serrett, had been one of the lords who was taken captive during the war but had unfortunately died from an arrow wound that festered. Before he died Robb was able to speak to Lord Malcom and had promised to deliver a letter to Silverhill in the event of his death; Robb told Ser Daven of this and showed him the letter. The young knight read the letter and agreed to speak to his brother.

Not long after Ser Daven had gone inside a group of men rode out from the gates of Silverhill, one of them holding a peace banner in his hand. Robb rode out to meet them halfway with Dacey, Ser Jasper, Lucas, Smalljon and Olyvar accompanying him along with ten guardsmen. The Serrett party was ten strong, and included a man who looked very similar to Ser Daven in appearance but with an older face; his light brown hair was a few inches longer than Robb's, his grey-green eyes were sharp and alert and his groomed moustache was bushy enough to make a Northman proud.

"Prince Robb," the man spoke when he came to a halt four yards from him.

"Lord Serrett," Robb replied as he looked Lord Jason up and down. "I would discuss terms with you and resolve this without bloodshed." The young lord looked at him sternly, but after a moment he nodded his head.

"Before we begin answer me this. Did my lord father write this letter with his own hand and by his own will?" Lord Jason demanded as he held the letter up in his hand. Robb regarded the letter before nodding his head in answer.

"Aye, he wrote it himself," Robb said. "He had asked me to personally see that it reached you or your brother. Lord Malcom fought bravely and honourably, trying to rally his men after battle was joined. He fell to an arrow and upon realising that the battle was lost he ordered his men to surrender to save their lives." Lord Jason sighed as he lowered the letter and placed it back in his surcoat.

"My lord father always put the welfare of his men first where he could," he said. "It was the one thing that he and Lord Lannister would disagree on." Lord Jason took a deep breath and looked back at Robb. "Name your terms Prince Robb, and we'll see where we go from there." _A promising start_ , Robb thought as he nodded his head and straightened his back.

"First, you will yield Silverhill to me," Robb began, "order your garrison to stand down and lay down their arms. Those who wish to return home will be allowed to do so. Those who wish to take the black will be allowed to do so. Secondly, House Serrett will pay half of its wealth to the Riverlands as part of the Westerlands debt to the lands of House Tully and their vassal lords. You will also send a third of your food stores to the Riverlands for redistribution to cover the crops that were destroyed by Lord Lannister's hosts during the sacking of the Riverlands. Lastly, you will deliver a member of your family to be held as a hostage until the war's end to ensure the compliance of House Serrett." Lord Jason looked at Robb with raised brows, his left hand moving from the reins of his horse to grip the pommel of his sword.

"Those are severe terms my prince," the new Lord Serrett said. "I cannot agree to such terms so easily. It is too much. I can send one sixth of my food stores and deliver one of my younger siblings as a hostage, but that is all that I am prepared to do." Robb sighed at this response, shifting in his saddle before looking at the lord in the eye. He kept his face stern and his voice firm when he spoke.

"The only alternative is that I will have no choice but to wrest Silverhill from you through battle," he told Lord Jason. "If I am forced to do that then you will suffer the same fate as House Lydden of Deep Den; your mines will be emptied of all wealth save for a tenth, half of your food stores will be claimed, and you and your siblings will be held in the dungeons of your castle save for the younger members who will be held in their rooms under guard. As the head of your House you will be sent to the Golden Tooth to await transport to Riverrun."

"And what will happen there once you have won the war?" Lord Jason asked in a demanding tone.

"That will be for my father King Eddard to decide," Robb answered. "It will either be the Wall or back home. For you it will likely be back home. Others may not be so fortunate." The lord shuffled in his saddle as he looked off to the side, a thoughtful look on his face. Robb wondered what was going on through his mind right now. Before long Lord Jason looked at him, his face softened.

"I'll be honest with you Prince Robb," he started. "The host that my brother Daven was riding with was my only hope of fighting you off. Obviously that has not worked, so I can see that I am now in a precarious position. I am not so foolish as to force you to storm my castle, that would serve no one, and I can see the way the wind is blowing. We lost the war the day you took Lord Lannister prisoner. I will not see blood shed within my walls, but your terms as I said are severe. I will not have my own suffer but nor will I sit back and accept such terms without fighting, so here is what I propose. You and I will fight and no other." Robb blinked in surprise at that, as that was not what he had expected. "We will fight until one of us yields to the other. If I prove the stronger sword then I'll allow one of my younger siblings to be taken as a ward and deliver one sixth of my food stores to you. If you prove the stronger sword then your terms will stand and I shall accept them." Robb narrowed his eyes slightly at him, taking in a deep breath before he turned to face his companions who all looked as surprised as he felt. After looking at them he turned to face Lord Jason again.

"That is quite bold of you Lord Serrett," he said. "But as you are trying to do the honourable thing and spare the lives of your men I will accept your challenge." The lord nodded his head and smiled.

"Very well my prince," he said. "Then let us meet here in the field in one hour and fight then. It will still be light enough to see what we are doing, and we shall both walk away no matter what the outcome. Do we have an agreement?" Lord Jason urged his horse forward slightly and held out his hand. Robb urged his own mount forward and turned to extend his own arm out. Both men grasped hands and shook, sealing the agreement.

The next hour was spent preparing for the duel with Lord Jason. Robb had word spread throughout the host of what was happening while he checked his arms and armour. He decided to keep the dagger on him but have it visible, and chose to use his longsword and shield. He made it clear to Grey Wind that he would not be needed for the upcoming fight, though his direwolf seemed a little bit put off by that.

"I don't think it'll be well received if you come running in and tear off Lord Serrett's arm should he defeat me," he told him. As he walked over to the field where he and Lord Jason parleyed he was followed by the same companions as earlier. Dacey gave him a respectful nod while Lucas patted him on the arm. Smalljon grinned widely while Olyvar had a nervous look about him.

"Are you certain of this my prince?" Ser Jasper asked him for what must have been the tenth time. Before Robb could answer Smalljon spoke.

"The boy wants to fight his own fight rather than throw away the lives of his men," he said. "Robb has to accept, lest he be ridiculed and named a craven for refusing such an honourable challenge. Either way, we win. Lord Serrett himself admitted that we have already won this war. Just a shame that his fellow lords don't realise that."

"It does make me wonder what Lord Serrett is playing at though," Dacey spoke up, a frown on her face. "Does he intend to land a crippling blow on you Robb, or is his intent as honourable as he stated? I am not sure if we can trust him to keep his word." Robb sighed at her words; although he did not wish to think it he had to admit that it was possible that Lord Jason might try something.

"That is why we will have our men stood ready, just in case," Robb told them. "Should the Serretts try something we will crush them. Let's hope they are not so foolish."

"Well we're about to find out Robb," Lucas said pointing towards Silverhill. Looking over his shoulder Robb saw ten men riding towards him like last time. Lord Jason was with them again, but this time he wore full steel plate armour with the Serrett peacock engraved upon the breastplate. He had a shield and a mace as well as a long bladed dagger strapped to his right hip. Robb stopped walking when he reached the same spot where he was earlier when he and Lord Jason parleyed. The Lord of Silverhill dismounted his horse and walked over to Robb, fixing him with a grim expression.

"When you are ready Prince Robb," he called out. Robb nodded his head and stepped forward, drawing his sword and raising his shield.

Robb walked to the middle of the field and met Lord Jason halfway. He saw the Serrett men gather around, eager to watch their lord fight. Looking over his shoulder Robb saw his friends doing the same, shouting words of encouragement to him. Looking back at his opponent Robb saw Lord Jason bang his mace against his shield, indicating that he was ready. Robb did the same, and the two of them began to circle each other. Robb watched Lord Jason carefully, waiting for him to make the first move. They circled each other for a couple of minutes until Robb decided to feign an attack. He moved forward and raised his sword as if to strike and Lord Jason lunged at him, swinging his mace at his shield. Robb stepped closer to the lord and smashed his shield to the left, intercepting the mace and halting the strike. Robb thrust his sword at Lord Jason, who slammed his shield down to redirect the blow. His attack thwarted, Robb pushed himself forward into his foe in a bid to throw him off balance. Lord Jason staggered back and nearly fell, but Robb did not press the advantage. He let the lord straighten himself up and gave him a moment before attacking again only to redirect his slash to parry the mace as Lord Jason had spun his body around so that the mace came from Robb's right. He was able to parry the strike but the momentum sent him staggering to the side. The lord followed up with another strike but Robb blocked with his shield this time. As he did he saw the shield of his foe racing to meet his helmeted head. Robb had to let go of his shield in order to quickly get away from the attack, which left him more vulnerable. _If he gets a good hit then I'm in trouble_ , he realised as he stepped back. Lord Jason kicked the shield away from them before throwing aside his own shield, much to Robb's surprise. _He wants to keep this fight as even as possible_. The two of them circled each other again, but this time they only did this for a few seconds.

Lord Jason moved first, lunging towards Robb with his mace up as if about to smash the weapon into his skull. Robb however chose to step back, and when his foe's mace did not swing for where his head had been he knew then that the move was a feint. Lord Jason cursed loudly before he went back on the offensive, swinging his mace at Robb once, twice, thrice before slamming his shoulder into him. The three swings Robb had parried but the shoulder he was not prepared for so he tumbled down to the ground, landing on his back. As he hit the ground he slashed out with his sword, aiming at the leg. Lord Jason jumped back a couple of feet, giving Robb some room to get back up. He had gotten to his knees when the lord struck out with his mace, the blow aimed for his head. Robb ducked down under the swing but he had lost his balance and had fallen again. He landed on his right side, and was expecting his foe to take advantage. When he looked up he saw that Lord Jason had stepped back, giving him room to stand. _Is he actually trying to keep this fight even and honourable, or is he lulling me into believing that_? he wondered, so Robb decide to take a gamble.

As slowly as he could, giving the impression that he was winded, Robb climbed back up onto his feet. He kept his head down low, but not so low that he could not watch Lord Jason for any sign of a move. Sure enough his gamble paid off; the Lord of Silverhill approached him, raising his mace up. As the mace came swinging down Robb sprung up to his feet quickly and hurled himself at the lord, his left shoulder colliding into his foe's chest. The man fell onto the ground, his mace flying out of his hand with the sudden unexpected impact. Robb watched as the man reached for his dagger, his gauntleted hand grabbing the hilt. As the blade came free Robb swung his sword against the small blade, sending it flying out of the man's hand. Before Lord Jason could even begin to recover Robb dropped down onto his knee and drew his own dagger while bringing his sword down to the lord's throat. The lord grabbed Robb's sword arm with both hands, and Robb brought his dagger to his throat. Looking into his foe's eyes he saw the look of shock which quickly turned to resignation, and he knew before Lord Jason spoke that he had beaten him.

"Yield! I yield!" the Lord of Silverhill called out loudly.

With the duel over (and sooner than he expected it to be), Robb had accepted Lord Jason's defeat and helped him back up to his feet. His own men cheered while the Serrett men looked shattered by their lord's defeat and surrender. Both men removed their helms and stepped apart, and a few minutes later the garrison of Silverhill began to march out. Robb rejoined his own host as they made ready to move in to formally accept Lord Jason's surrender.

"For a moment there I thought you had been winded by the man Robb," Dacey said with a smirk as he mounted his horse. Robb smiled at her as he looked back at the castle.

"So did Lord Serrett it seemed," he replied. "That was my intention, to make him think he could best me easily if he thought I was weakening." Smalljon laughed loudly, slapping Robb on the back.

"You could've fought him for a bit longer you know," he said. "Give the men a good show." Robb chuckled as he looked at his friend.

"I could've, but I wanted the fight done as quickly as possible," he told him. After half an hour Robb and his companions rode through the gates of Silverhill, his men marching in behind him. As he entered he saw Lord Jason standing in front of the door, a respectful look in his eyes while his face was grim. Robb dismounted his horse, Smalljon and Lucas also dismounting, and he walked over to the defeated lord who bent the knee to him.

"Silverhill is yours my prince," the man said. "I will deliver the wealth and food as per your demands, and I shall allow one of my siblings to travel to the Golden Tooth to be taken as a hostage." He spoke humbly, but he did so as a man who had not just been defeated in combat.

"My thanks for your surrender my lord," Robb told him. He let the lord stand back up and looked him in the eye before asking him a question. "You were waiting for me to think you were giving me room to stand up when you were not going to, weren't you?" Lord Jason gave a small smile and a nod of his head.

"I have fought in a tourney once," he said. "It's a common trick during single combat during a melee. Let you opponent think you are giving him a chance to get on his feet, and strike when he is halfway up. Always the best way to catch someone off guard. Though you clearly saw through it." Robb nodded his head in response.

"I had a feeling you were doing that, so I moved slowly while keeping my eye on you," he told him honestly. Lord Jason sighed as he shook his head.

"That's what I get for being overconfident," he said before leading Robb and his companions and lords inside.

An hour later Robb was sat down with Dacey, Smalljon, Lucas, Olyvar, Ser Jasper and Lord Jason inside the castle's great hall. Lord Jason's family was also gathered; his brother Ser Daven was sitting on his left with two more siblings, a brother named Gerold who was about eleven, and a sister named Eleanor who was nine. To Lord Jason's right was an older woman with greying hair, dressed in black; this was Lady Ellen Serrett, Lord Malcom's widow. Sitting next to her was the Maester of Silverhill, a bald man named Filon. Robb and his friends sat on one side of the table while Lord Jason and his family sat across from them.

"Your demands are steep Prince Robb," Lady Ellen said as Robb went over what House Serrett was to give over.

"We have already discussed this mother," Lord Jason spoke, his voice stern. "Prince Robb and I duelled over the matter to determine the price we have to pay. I lost, therefore Prince Robb's demands stand."

"If you had not been so overconfident you would have beaten the boy," she hissed. Robb resisted the urge to sigh. Lady Ellen was anything but understanding of the situation it seemed. "How you fell to a Northman is beyond me."

"Then it'll be beyond you as to how Lord Lannister fell to this same Northman," Lord Jason snapped back.

"Don't you take that tone with me young man," she hissed, and Robb could only watch on as the Serrett's bickered like children. _For the love of the gods do not give away your mother as our hostage_ , Robb thought, wondering if Lord Jason had been intending to give her over from the start.

"That's enough mother," Lord Jason said as he glared at Lady Ellen. "The North are winning this war, we are not. Tywin Lannister is done. House Lannister is done. I cannot see how they can recover from their humiliating defeat." After speaking to his mother he looked over to Filon. "Maester Filon, my lady mother is exhausted from the day's events. Some essence of nightshade may help her get a quiet night's sleep. Daven, would you escort our mother to her chambers?"

"Of course, my lord," Ser Daven answered as he rose from his seat. Lady Ellen looked beyond angry at her eldest son, but she said nothing as Filon stood up and stepped back. When Ser Daven offered her his arm she reluctantly stood up from her seat.

"This isn't over Jason," she hissed as she was escorted from the room. When the door closed Lord Jason let out a long sigh.

"I apologise for that Prince Robb, but my mother is prone to being unreasonable when she is upset," he explained. "Unfortunately my mother gets upset an awful lot. This is a regular occurrence these days." Lord Jason took a deep breath before picking up a quill and dipping it into the inkwell in front of him. "Anyway, moving forward." Robb leaned over the table, his hands clasped in front of him as he looked at the lord as he wrote down their agreement. The Serretts would pay half of their wealth and a third of their food as demanded, which was what Lord Jason was writing down just now. "All we need to do is agree to who your hostage will be. I doubt after that display you'll want my mother as a hostage, although taking her would be doing me a massive kindness."

"Jason!" Eleanor spoke out in a scandalised tone. Robb would have laughed at the nine year old had this not been a serious meeting, but it seemed that Smalljon had no problem laughing. Robb looked at his friend and saw him receive a slap from Dacey. The Umber heir fell quiet and Robb nodded his head to Dacey in thanks. "That is not nice to say. She is our mother."

"And a pain in the arse Eleanor," Gerold responded, earning a smack over the head from Lord Jason.

"None of that language here Gerold," he told his little brother sternly before looking back at Robb. "So as it stands you have the option of taking either of my youngest siblings. Gerold is a bit... vocal, shall we say, but Eleanor is thankfully a polite little lady who remembers her manners, thank the Seven." Looking at Eleanor Robb noticed her rolling her eyes in annoyance.

"I'm not going anywhere, and neither is Eleanor," Gerold spat, his voice stubborn. The lord rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Seven who are one give me strength," Lord Jason said before looking back at Gerold. "Do you think you can beat Prince Robb in single combat? If so then you can set the terms."

"Father would never allow this to happen," Gerold snapped.

"Our father is dead..."

"No thanks to these Northman!"

"ENOUGH GEROLD!" Eleanor jumped in fright at her eldest brother's shout. Robb sighed as he sat up straighter and looked at the Serretts. Gerold was red in the face while his brother was visibly shaking with anger. Eleanor looked ready to burst into tears at her brothers fighting. He could take the girl but he felt that that was far too cruel, but at the same time the boy was far too combative and seemed ready to argue all the time. _Did you have to give me this hardship father_? he thought. _Taking children from their families? This is worse than a bloody battle_. After a moment Robb looked at Lord Jason.

"Surely one of your younger siblings wants to see some of the eastern parts of the Westerlands my lord?" he said suggestively, hoping that one of the two would think of it as going on a little adventure. While Gerold seemed indifferent Eleanor looked up at him with far greater interest. "I'm sure there are parts of these lands that either Gerold or Eleanor would love to see." Lord Jason looked at Robb and nodded his head in agreement.

"Yes, that would be a good idea," he said. Gerold huffed in anger then and glared at Robb, his eyes full of hate.

"Don't think you can convince me with such a foolish idea," he said. For just a moment Robb thought he was talking to that damned idiot Joffrey. _Gerold seems to behave like him a fair bit_ , he thought.

"If all you are going to do is give us grief I might as well ship you off to the Wall Gerold," Lord Jason said, his voice full of frustration. Robb shook his head. _This is getting out of hand_ , he thought, deciding to make his decision. However before he could speak Eleanor stood up fast, tears starting to leave her eyes as she began yelling at her brothers.

"Stop it, both of you!" she screeched. "I'll go! I'll be their ward or whatever it is I am supposed to be! Just stop fighting both of you!" Robb slumped in his seat as he watched the little girl storm out of the room, crying loudly. Gerold sat down in his seat and let out a petulant groan while Lord Jason turned to face Robb once more.

"Well then," he started off slowly, eyeing his youngest brother who just seemed to be ignoring him now. "It seems we have an agreement my prince."

"Indeed," Robb agreed as the lord went back to writing the agreement down. After a few quiet moments Lord Jason slid the parchment over to Robb to read over. He read it twice before nodding his head, satisfied with the letter. Robb took the quill and added his signature to the letter, with Ser Jasper and Lucas adding theirs after he was done. The letter signed Lord Jason stood up and shook Robb's hand before leaving the hall, an angry Gerold stomping after him. When the Serretts were gone Robb let out a loud sigh.

"What an awful little shit that boy is," Dacey said as she stood up from her seat.

"Aye, he certainly is," Smalljon agreed. Robb looked at his friends, seeing them all stand up and stretch their legs.

"I can understand Lady Serrett's annoyance," Ser Jasper said as he moved around the table. "But I must say I'm disappointed in young Gerold. He should have behaved better than that."

"My brother Rickon can behave better than him, and he's only four," Robb said. "It matters not, we have our agreement. Now we just have to see what else will happen."

Robb led his group outside to the camp where his tent was. He could rightly demand to sleep inside Silverhill but Robb prefers sleeping in his own tent as most of his men have to do when occupying an enemy castle, believing that he should share in their hardships when on enemy land. _It's not right for me to enjoy comfort on campaign while the men are all having to sleep out in their tents_ , he decided when he first rode out.

"Olyvar, go on ahead and check out how the camp is doing," he told his squire.

"Yes my prince," Olyvar said dutifully before running off. As they walked along Robb looked at the others; Lucas was yawning as he walked while Ser Jasper was cringing at a jape that Smalljon was telling him. Dacey however seemed quieter than normal, looking lost in her thoughts. Robb hung back a little bit and then walked beside her when she caught up.

"Something on your mind Dacey?" he asked. The Mormont heir looked at him, startled by him suddenly speaking.

"N... no, no I'm fine," she said. "Just thinking a lot these days." A small smile played on her lips as she looked away. Robb frowned but chose not to ask any further. Whatever it was that was on Dacey's mind she would speak of it when she was ready. Dacey went to her own tent saying a quick farewell to Robb and the others, leaving him and Grey Wind to wander off to his own tent as the rest wandered to their tents. He would meet up with Dacey and the others again later on for their supper before going to sleep, but that was not for another couple of hours yet. He entered his tent and sat down, sighing as he tried to get comfortable. _What an interesting day today has been_ , he mused as he rubbed his hands over his face. He leaned across to the table where a journal lay and picked it up. He opened it to the marked page and read over what he had written last time; details on what was taken after the storming of Deep Den as well as how many men-at-arms lost their lives that day. Robb stood up from his seat with a grumble and put the journal back down before looking for his inkwell and quill. _I'd rather be back in that fight I had earlier today than be dealing with this work_ , he thought as he sat down and began to write about the events that took place today.

* * *

Loras

Loras rode his horse hard as he saw Highgarden in the distance. Ser Robar and Brienne of Tarth were right behind him, along with a few dozen other knights that were following. He had lost track of time since that horrible day, when Renly was found dead along with Ser Emmon Cuy. He had been murdered, and everyone seemed to believe that his father Mace Tyrell had done it. He spoke with his father after Lord Tarly had ordered for him to be kept in his tent. The Lord of Horn Hill seemed convinced of Mace's guilt after a bloodstained dagger had been found in Mace's tent, which according to some servant girl was being carried by someone who looked like Loras's father. Loras himself was not convinced at all; he asked his father outright if there was any truth to what Lord Tarly was saying, but Mace looked him in the eye and told him that he was innocent. Loras believed his father when he said that. _My father could never betray Renly_ , he thought. _He would only hurt Margaery, and that's something that he would never ever do_. Unfortunately most seemed to think that Mace was guilty, especially after a letter had allegedly been found which further proved Mace's alleged guilt. Loras would have asked his father about the letter, but when he heard that it was from Littlefinger he knew that his father was being set up.

Loras did not see Stannis at all that day, but he had seen others who were loyal to him wandering about the camp. Over the course of the day most of the banners who had been sworn to Renly decided to join with Stannis, and so marched to Storm's End to bring a swift end to the siege. Loras would have gone to Renly's body but he had been moved already by Stannis's orders. Loras stayed with his father until Robar and Brienne had appeared and told him they were leaving for Highgarden to bring word to Margaery. He closed his eyes as he remembered his father's words to him.

" _You should go Loras_ ," he had told him. " _Go home and tell Margaery what has happened. And tell her... tell her that I am sorry and no matter what anyone says I did not do it_."

" _Come with us father_ ," Loras begged him even as Robar made to pull him out. " _If you stay here you'll die. I can get you out of here before Stannis tries to kill you_." Mace had smiled at him, a sad smile. His father may well have been a fat bumbling fool at times (though Loras would never say that aloud), but he was a still a father who loved his children.

" _Better for me to die than for them to have you as a hostage_ ," Mace had said sadly. Loras had fought back the tears before leaving the tent and sneaking away with the others. They had gotten to the edges of the camp without being accosted by any of Stannis's men, and soon had mounted their horses and rode for the nearby woods.

When they had reached the woods it was night time, and Loras looked back to the camp in the distance. He had sat atop his horse, his hands shaking, when he noticed a large crowd in the centre of the camp. Minutes later he saw someone being pulled into the middle of the crowd, and soon that person was left alone as those who dragged him walked off. Then someone approached with a flaming brand, and Loras realised that it was his father who was in the middle of the crowd. He tried to turn his horse around but Robar had grabbed the reins of his horse so he quickly dismounted and ran towards the camp. Brienne had tackled him to the ground and held him down, telling him it was too late. Loras struggled as he looked up and saw the fire surrounding his father, and before long he heard his father's death shrieks. Loras watched, tears pouring down his face, as his father was burned alive.

After that the journey was just a blur to him. He barely remembered Brienne dragging him back to his horse and telling him he would not get revenge if he got himself killed now. He barely remembered Robar giving him his condolences a few days later. All he could think of was how he had failed those he loved. _Margaery... father... mother... grandmother... Renly_. Loras held his tears in, willing himself not to break down now. He rode on, barely responding to his companions; every day he woke up, broke his fast, rode his horse, stopped to eat supper, slept. That was his pattern for however many days have now passed. Renly haunted his dreams every night; he was always stood there, looking and smiling as Loras ran to him, shouting at him to move out of the way as a man whose face was blurred raised up a dagger before plunging it down. Every time Loras would reach Renly just as he was stabbed, and then Renly would stare at him with a broken look in his eyes.

"Why Loras?" he would say. "Why didn't you save me? I was right there. Why did you push me away?" Then Renly would disappear only to be replaced with a broken hearted Margaery, who would sit there on her knees, dressed in black and weeping into her hands. He would reach her and she would brush away his touch.

"WHY?" she would shriek in his dreams. "I LOVED HIM LORAS, JUST AS YOU DID! WHY DID YOU NOT STAY WITH HIM? YOU SHOULD'VE DIED WITH HIM!" Then Margaery would fade away. Then he would see those who have now turned their cloaks, such as Tarly and Caron. They would all look at him as he wandered around; some would laugh, others would glower, but all mocked him for his failure. And then he would see his father. Loras would run to him only to stop and see his younger self, a boy of six playing with a toy sword in his hand, whacking away at his father, who was slimmer then.

"When I grow up, I'm going to be the best knight that the Kingsguard will ever have," his younger self would squeal with childish delight. His father would laugh.

"Yes son, you'll be a fine knight," he would say, then Mace would look at Loras and be the fat jovial man that Loras knew him from recent memory. "And then you'll be a Kingsguard, and you will fail those you love," Mace would say before turning serious. "And you'll be a husk of a man, fighting until you die. Wishing to die. Wanting to just roll over and die." As he spoke Mace would be surrounded by flames that would melt his clothes away before engulfing him. "YOU FAILED US BOY!" With that Loras would wake up from his dream with a start, and the next day would begin.

Now he was riding for Highgarden, the rest of his companions behind him. He saw his family castle loom in the distance, growing larger with every minute that passed. He rode hard, urging his mount to go faster and not caring that the beast was exhausted. He had to get inside his home, he had to. _I need to tell them_ , he told himself. _It has to be me_. Loras rode, for however long he rode for, and then he found himself before the massive doors of his family's home. Willas was stood there leaning on his cane, Garlan walking from behind with their mother Alerie following.

"Loras?" a voice called out softly. He turned his face and saw Margaery striding forwards elegantly, wearing a dress of black and gold. "Loras, what are you doing here? What's happened?" Loras dismounted his horse and walked forwards, only to stumble and collapse. "LORAS!?" his sister shrieked in horror as he fell. Loras looked up and saw Willas struggling down to him.

"Loras?" he called out, his voice distant as Loras's vision grew dim. "Loras, can you hear me?" Loras tried to talk, but he struggled to form words. Then everything was dark.

When Loras came to he was lying down in a feather bed. His whole body felt incredibly stiff. He opened his eyes and saw that his vision was quite blurry, but he could make out someone on a chair by his bed. His vision cleared slowly, and soon he saw that it was his brother Willas who was sitting there, reading a book. Willas looked up from his book and hurriedly put it down.

"Maester Lomys, Loras is awake," he said to someone off to the side. Loras turned his head to see Lomys shuffling over to him.

"Ah, good to see you awake young man," he said. "I wouldn't try to move too much. You'll be far too exhausted for today at least. For now just relax, and have something to drink." Lomys gave Loras a cup of bitter tasting water, which felt rough on his throat. "Your companions told us that you have not been eating properly for the last few days. It comes as no surprise that your lack of eating properly contributed to your collapse. Some servants will come with some food later on, but do yourself a favour and don't eat too quickly." Afterwards the Maester left the room, leaving Loras alone with Willas, who he noticed was wearing black.

"How are you?" Willas asked him as he shifted himself off of his chair, his cane in hand. Loras shook his head, slowly bringing his numb arm up to try and brush his hair to the side.

"How's Margaery?" he demanded. He was not ready to discuss himself yet. Thankfully Willas took the hint.

"Devastated," he replied. "Ser Robar and Lady Brienne told us about what happened. When they told us about Renly Margaery nearly collapsed herself at the news, but when they told us about father..." Willas trailed off as he looked away, his free hand visibly shaking. "Mother's distraught. She spends every day weeping for father. Just the mere sound of laughter reduces her to tears now. Grandmother has been quiet, but I can see that our father's death has hit her hard too. Margaery has all but locked herself in her chambers. She allows visitors and she eats at least, but she hasn't left since the day you came back." Loras struggled to sit up from the bed, feeling dizzy as he moved. He jammed his eyes shut as he tried to steady himself. After a minute when he felt well enough to do so he opened his eyes.

"How long have I been out?" he asked. Willas sighed as he leant on his cane heavily with both hands.

"Eight days," he told Loras. He limped back to his seat and sat back down heavily, wincing as he did. "Your horse was exhausted, but it managed to survive. I've had her cleaned and fed, and she's secured in the stables. Lady Brienne has chosen to remain here, but Ser Robar decided to leave and inform his father and brother of what has transpired." Willas fell silent then, looking down at his lap before he stood up with a sigh. "Take as much time as you need little brother. When you're able to leave your bed, go and see Margaery."

"She'll hate me," Loras blurted out. He took a deep breath to steady himself. _Don't break down. Don't break down_ , he ordered himself. "She'll hate me for failing Renly. For..."

"Nonsense Loras," Willas said sharply. "She won't hate you. Even if she will deny it you are her favourite brother. She can never hate you. In fact she seems to think that you hate her." Loras looked up at his elder brother then, confused by what he just said.

"Why would I hate her? That doesn't make any sense," he told him.

"She was under the impression that her love for Renly would lead to you hating her," Willas answered him. "I told her otherwise, but I don't think she quite believed me." Loras looked away from his brother then, looking off to the window that gave him a view of the outside world.

"What do I do?" he asked. "What can I do?" He looked back at Willas who was standing by the door now. Willas sighed as he turned to open the door and step out.

"Just rest for today Loras," he said. "When you are well enough, go and see her." Willas closed the door behind him, leaving Loras alone with his thoughts.

After a time some servants entered the room with a couple of plates filled with food. Loras followed Maester Lomys's advice and ate the food slowly, not wanting to make himself ill from eating too much or too quickly. An hour had passed when he received another visitor in the form of his mother. Alerie walked in, her silver hair tied back and her otherwise lovely face was full of sorrow. Her eyes were red from near endless crying. She sat down beside her youngest son and was quiet for a short while before speaking.

"How are you, Loras?" she asked trying to sound cheerful, though he could tell her heart was not in it.

"I don't know mother," he said honestly. "I cannot describe how I feel. I don't think there are anywhere near enough words to describe my feelings. Everything is just... just..." As he trailed off he looked at his mother and saw the tears in her eyes starting to fall. Alerie tried hard to not weep, but she was not doing well at holding it in. "Come here mother," he said as he held his arms out to her. His mother wrapped her arms tightly around him and wept loudly.

"You... you shouldn't have ha... had to watch that," she managed between sobs. "You should... shouldn't have had to watch... your father die that... that way. I... I can't imagine how... how horrible it must've been." Loras tightened his hold on his mother, trying hard not to break down. His mother stayed with him for about an hour, and they talked little. When the hour had passed Alerie left Loras alone. He lay in bed for a long time before drifting off to sleep. Renly continued to plague his dreams, along with his father and the others.

The next morning Loras rose out of bed and got dressed. There were some clothes left behind for him to wear, and they were all black in colour. Loras pulled on the breeches and doublet before making his way down the stairs to the hall that his family used for private meals. He entered the hall and saw that his mother and grandmother were sat down beside each other, with Willas sat on the lord's seat. Loras was about to open his mouth and tell him that was their father's seat, but he stopped himself before he could. _Father's gone_ , he reminded himself. _Willas is now the Lord of Highgarden_. Garlan was sat to Willas's right, dressed in his armour and quietly speaking to him. To Willas's left was Garth Tyrell, their great-uncle, who serves as the Lord Seneschal of Highgarden. The older man who is better known as Garth the Gross for his flatulence had a stack of papers in his hands and was just standing up. _Thank the gods for that_ , Loras thought.

"I will see that the papers are sent off my lord," Garth said, his voice quiet and respectful.

"Thank you Lord Seneschal," Willas replied, and then the man took his leave, leaving behind an unpleasant odour as he walked away. Loras walked up to the table and sat down beside Garlan.

"Morning Loras," he said quietly. Loras gave a short reply when he was seated.

"I have called for the banners still loyal to us," Willas said. "I will have Highgarden defended if Lord Tarly should turn his attention to us. In the mean time we shall prepare to ride north to Riverrun." Loras looked at his brother then, stunned at that declaration.

"Are we going to put the Starks on the Iron Throne?" he asked.

"No Loras," his grandmother answered then, quieter than expected. "But we need an alliance with them. Under the circumstances I am looking at my other granddaughter to see if she will be a suitable bride for Ned Stark's heir." Loras looked at Olenna with wide eyes.

"Cousin Desmera?" he asked, hating how stupid he sounded. "Would Uncle Paxter accept?"

"We will worry about that later," Willas interrupted them, his voice loud. "For the next couple of days I will have no political discussions in the dining hall. We shall eat our meals here without speaking of any matters of the realm, only when we exit this hall shall we discuss such matters." The hall fell silent as servants brought in food for them all to eat. Loras grabbed himself some bacon rashers and sausages along with toasted bread and a boiled egg, which he ate slowly. After his breakfast he left the hall and walked outside, wandering around one of the gardens. He walked along at a slow pace, listening to the sounds of birds singing and horses neighing. He walked along, not paying any attention to the passage of time. He remembered better times from before King Robert's death; his first time meeting Renly when he was sent to squire for him at Storm's End, learning about being a knight, beating someone at the lists for the first time, and most importantly to Loras his first time in Renly's arms. He remembered everything that he had shared with Renly, all of the good times spent sneaking off to enjoy one another, all of the times spent kissing and cuddling, and all of the intense moments of passion they had when they could get away with it.

Loras cannot remember how he ended up there to begin with, but when he had finally gotten hold of his senses he was standing outside the door to his sister's chambers. Brienne was stood outside in her armour, her left hand gripping the hilt of her sword. She looked at Loras with a sorrowful look in her eyes.

"I'm here to see my sister," Loras told her bluntly. Brienne nodded her head and turned to knock on the door.

"Your grace, your brother Ser Loras wishes to speak with you," she called out. Loras heard his sister's muffled reply, and a moment later Brienne opened the door slightly. Loras walked forward, moving towards the open door, when suddenly he felt Brienne's hand grab his shoulder. Her grip was much more gentle than he expected from her. "We all loved him Ser Loras," she said to him softly. "We all did." She did not need to say who she was talking about, but it still caught him off guard. Any other time Loras would shake her hand off and just ignore the woman, but this time he did not. Instead he looked at the woman in her eyes and nodded his head respectfully. She let him go and he walked into the room.

The door closed behind him as he walked into the middle of the room, and he looked around until he saw Margaery standing by the window. She had her back to him, her soft brown hair was loose and her dress pure black. Loras stepped closer to her, clearing his throat. Margaery slowly turned around to face him, and Loras nearly gasped at the look of utter devastation on her face. Her eyes were redder than their mother's had been, and upon closer inspection Loras realised that her hair was a complete mess. Her brown curls were sticking out in such a way it looked like Margaery had been dragged backwards through a row of hedges.

"Margaery," Loras said softly. He could not say anything else despite wanting to tell her a hundred things. He just stood there with a lump in his throat. Finally he was able to speak again after what felt like an eternity of silence. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Margaery croaked out as tears flooded down her cheeks, and soon Loras felt his own tears fall. After a moment she strode over to Loras and threw her arms around him, weeping loudly into his shoulder as he wrapped his own arms around her. They both stood there, Margaery's sobs muffled as Loras finally gave in to his grief. Brother and sister cried together for the loss of both their father and the man that both of them had loved. They wept for a long time until they both were sat down on chairs by the window, their tears spent. Loras told Margaery everything that happened at the camp; his and Renly's conversation; the discovery of the bodies of Renly and Ser Emmon; Tarly's detainment of their father after the discovery of the dagger and later on the letter; and Mace telling Loras to leave and go back to Highgarden. After he had told her all of that Margaery told him about the letter that Littlefinger had sent. She showed the letter to him and Loras read it several times before he realised that he was right about Littlefinger setting his father up.

"That bastard," he said, his voice while quiet laced with rage. "He set this up. He was hoping for this. If I ever get my hands on Petyr fucking Baelish I'll skin him alive." Margaery's hand grabbed his forearm and gently squeezed him.

"He's long gone if he isn't dead already," she told him. "Not long after we received that letter we heard of Baelish's arrest for murdering Lord Arryn." Loras was surprised by that news. "We also heard that he had escaped from King's Landing not long after his arrest. So wherever he is he'll be far away from here." Loras snorted in disgust at the treacherous lord's escape.

"As long as he is out there he is a threat to us all," he told her. "He can scrounge up money quicker than a whore spreads her legs for a client. We have to find him now."

"And where do you suggest we look Loras?" she asked him. "By the time we get to one place he'll be in another location, and we will have no fewer than ten locations to choose from to try and track him down. All we can do is keep our ears to the ground and our eyes open. For now we should work on ending this war." Margaery stood up and walked over to the window, her arms folded over her chest. She was silent for a minute before she spoke again. "Uncle Paxter will be arriving within the next few days with Aunt Mina and Desmera. When they arrive we will depart for Riverrun and seek an audience with Ned Stark." Loras looked up at her then, confused by this sudden statement. Before he spoke he remembered what Willas said to him earlier that day about riding for Riverrun.

"That's why we are riding north isn't it?" he asked. Margaery looked over her shoulder and nodded her head.

"I will travel there with grandmother, our aunt and uncle, Desmera, over a hundred guards and whoever else I need to take with me as well as the banners of those who have stayed loyal to us," she said matter-of-factly. "The Seven Kingdoms are no more. There will be no one person ruling over all of Westeros. Dorne may well go their own way, and after what happened to Princess Elia sixteen years ago who can blame them. The Riverlands and soon the Vale will only bend the knee to the Starks who already have the North. I can see which way the wind is blowing. Grandmother sees it. Willas sees it. Stannis Baratheon does not." Margaery turned around to face Loras fully, her face set into a look of fierce determination. "He will wage war upon all who refuse to accept his new god. Lord Tarly may now fight for him but he will soon find himself having to choose between the Seven and this Lord of Light. Stannis will have to face much opposition over his conversion, and he will never accept the sovereignty of the Northern Kingdoms. As long as this war goes on people will suffer. I cannot accept that." She stepped closer to Loras and put her hand on his shoulder. "I will not allow my people to suffer because of this war. I will not allow Stannis Baratheon to sit any throne. I would sooner be Queen over just the Stormlands and the Reach than see Stannis try to rule over all the realm with an iron fist." Loras stood up and looked at his sister then, putting both his hands onto her shoulders. The way Margaery was talking just now had frightened him a little bit. He has never seen his sister like this at all.

"I'm with you every step of the way Margaery," he began before taking a deep breath. "But I don't think Stark will be willing to see a Tyrell take the Throne. He does not trust our family, especially as we have no true claim now that Renly is..." He trailed off then, looking away while willing himself not to break down again. "Now that Renly is gone." He looked back as his sister's face and saw her give the barest hint of a smile. He frowned at that, wondering why until Margaery took one of his hands.

"A good thing then," she said as she brought his hand down to her belly, "that I am carrying Renly's heir."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** And that's that, with confirmation that Margaery is carrying a little Baratheon.

Next chapter will have a time skip of about a month, and we will go back to Riverrun and see things from Jon's POV before moving on to Sarsfield, where Robb's army will be camped outside of. I'll get the next chapter up asap.


	16. Sarsfield

**Author's Note:** Update 2 of 2.

So we come back to Jon in this chapter who will get a bit of good news. Afterwards we will go to Sarsfield where Robb currently is with his army. As such we have a time skip of one month since the events of last chapter. Enjoy

* * *

 **Chapter 16**

 **Sarsfield**

* * *

Jon

"OPEN THE GATE!" a guardsman bellowed out from the gatehouse as Jon walked into the courtyard. Riverrun has been teeming with activity over the last few days in preparation of King Eddard's return. Jon has been spending his time training with Grenn and Pyp, and occasionally sparring with Arya when she was not sparring with Nymeria Sand. The second daughter of Prince Oberyn had made a good friend for Arya, and much to Jon's surprise Sansa had taken to speaking with her as well. The elder daughter of the Red Viper, Obara Sand, was usually training with her spear, showing off her skill. A couple of the Riverrun garrison had made japes until Obara challenged one foolish guardsman to a fight and floored him within a minute. Since then none of the garrison made japes about her. Jon found Obara's skill with her spear to be quite impressive.

A few days ago a raven had arrived from Harrenhal with word that Eddard and Catelyn were returning. The message also brought ill news; Catelyn's sister and nephew were dead, young Lord Robert murdered and Lady Arryn dead by her own hand. Jon broke the news to the girls as gently as possible, and Sansa had wept while Arya was just angry. He got them to agree to not say anything to their grandfather; the last thing that Lord Tully would want to hear was the murder of one of his grandsons as well as the suicide of his youngest daughter. Now he was stood waiting as the gate opened and the drawbridge was lowered over the moat. A minute later Jon saw his uncle ride through with his wife on a horse beside him. Catelyn was dressed in black, a sign of her mourning the deaths of Lady Arryn and little Lord Robert. Eddard was wearing his crown, armour and cloak, with Ice secure in its scabbard and strapped to his saddle. Behind them came Theon and another lad that Jon did not know; Theon had his longbow over his back with a quiver of arrows hanging from his belt and was dressed in boiled leather, while the other lad had a longsword and was dressed in steel plate. After them came a dozen or so other riders.

Jon watched as Ser Robin Ryger approached his uncle slowly and bowed to him as he dismounted his horse. Eddard exchanged words with the guard captain before turning to help Catelyn from her horse. Jon hung back with Grenn and Pyp to his right and Sam to his left, watching as Sansa and Arya approached. To Jon's relief Arya had agreed to wear a dress (albeit reluctantly), so he knew that she would not be getting an earful from her mother. After the girls approached their mother and embraced her Jon began to walk over to Eddard. Theon came striding over to them, a serious look in his eyes for a change.

"Hey Snow," he said. Jon bit down on a retort before he responded.

"Theon," he managed before looking at the armoured lad. "Who's that?" Theon looked at the man and sighed.

"That's our new Lord of the Vale," he answered. "Harrold Arryn. Well, he was Harrold Hardyng before your father named him an Arryn, after... well, after what happened to the Queen's sister and nephew." He looked back at Jon and sighed loudly. "I try not to think about it too much. Makes me glad your father's got me learning more about my own people." A small smile appeared on Theon's face then, but before he could say another word Eddard called him over. Theon turned around and made his way to him while Jon followed at a distance. While Eddard spoke with Theon Jon turned to face the girls and their mother. He watched them as Catelyn spoke to Arya about something or other with Sansa standing by quietly. A cough from beside him brought his attention to Lord Harrold who was standing beside him.

"You are King Eddard's son I take it?" he asked. Jon was quite surprised by the young lord taking notice of him, but quickly recovered.

"Yes, I am my lord," he answered. Lord Harrold looked him up and down as if judging him.

"You don't look much like a prince to me," he said. Jon suppressed a sigh then as he had an idea of where this conversation was going.

"That'll be because I am not a prince," he told the lord. "I am Jon Snow. The King's bastard son." As Jon suspected Lord Harrold seemed put off by that and had taken a very slight step back.

"Oh," he said. "Well then... I must go and see to the King." With that Lord Harrold turned around and walked back to where Eddard stood. Jon turned around to face Grenn who had stepped closer to him.

"What a stuck up cunt," Grenn muttered quietly to the young lord's retreating back. Jon let out a slow breath.

"Leave it Grenn," he told his friend. "I'm used to worse from people of higher standing than him. His words cannot hurt me." Saying that reminded him of Tyrion's words of advice to him months ago at Winterfell, when King Robert came to make Eddard his Hand. That seemed like a lifetime ago now; back when he was simply Jon Snow the bastard son of the honourable Lord Eddard Stark, the brother to Robb and Sansa and Arya and Bran and Rickon. Now he was still Jon Snow, but he was the nephew of King Eddard Stark, and cousin to the Princes Robb, Bran and Rickon and to the Princesses Sansa and Arya. Thinking of Arya being addressed as princess always amused Jon; the look of horror on her face and the frustration in her grey eyes as she hears the title's use next to her name would make Jon chuckle, as did the sounds of annoyance that came from Arya every time she spoke up.

"Jon," Eddard suddenly called out, drawing Jon out of his thoughts as he faced his uncle. "We need to talk." Jon nodded his head and bid his friends farewell before following Eddard as he walked inside.

Jon and Eddard walked along the corridors of Riverrun, making their way to the room that had been set aside for Jon's uncle as his personal solar. They walked into the room and Eddard closed the door behind them, Jon waiting by the chair until he was told to sit. Eddard gestured for him to take his seat, and Jon sat down as his uncle walked to the other side of the desk between them. When Eddard sat down he let out a noise of frustration, making Jon frown.

"Utter madness," he said as he removed the crown from his head. "The simple thought that none of this would have happened had Lysa not done as she had done is just maddening." Jon sat still and listened as Eddard explained to him everything that had happened at the Eyrie, including Lady Lysa Arryn's confession of murdering her husband Jon Arryn. Learning that had stunned him.

"Why would Lady Arryn do all of that though?" he asked. "It makes no sense."

"Because Petyr Baelish has been manipulating her for years it seems," he said. "The man who murdered little Robert confessed to having been sent to kill Jon's son under orders from Baelish. Cat wants to see Petyr dead now that his true nature is known, and she is not the only one." Eddard sighed as he stood back up from his seat and wandered over to the window before turning to face Jon again. "I sent out word that he is to be arrested and brought before me with all haste. Lord Lyonel Corbray had told me when he came to swear his oaths of service to Lord Harrold that Baelish had met with him some weeks ago before vanishing from his tower. Lord Corbray had become suspicious of Baelish after his brother Ser Lyn had seemingly disappeared and so sent his men to scour the tower. The day we were to leave the Eyrie, after seeing Lord Harrold married to one of Lord Royce's daughters, one of Lord Corbray's knights had arrived and informed us that several bodies had been found washed up on the shore many miles west of the tower's location. Among the dead were Ser Lyn Corbray and his squire, Mychel Redfort. Now both Lord Corbray and Lord Redfort are demanding Baelish's head, Redfort for his youngest son's death and Corbray for both his brother's murder and the theft of Lady Forlorn." Jon stared wide eyed at his uncle at this news.

"House Corbray's ancestral sword? You mean that Baelish has stolen it?" He was shocked and sickened by the audacity of the man, as was Eddard by the look of disgust in his eyes.

"Aye. A murderer and a thief. And he has just vanished. I suspect that he could have crossed the Narrow Sea to evade capture, but if he has then I have no idea where to start." Jon stood up from his seat and walked over to his uncle, looking outside to the Whispering Wood which lay beyond the river running beneath them. He stood quietly trying to think of something to say that could help, but he found that he could not give any help at all. He knew nothing of Baelish other than what Robb and Eddard have told him, and that was little. He knew that Baelish was not a Westerosi name, but he could not think of where in all of Essos his ancestors could have come from. _That would be something that Queen Catelyn might know, if Baelish ever told her anything of his family's past_ , he thought upon remembering Robb telling him the tale of his Uncle Brandon's duel with a young Petyr Baelish before Robert's Rebellion.

"Would Queen Catelyn know where in Essos Baelish could have gone?" he asked. "He did foster here in Riverrun after all, did he not?" Eddard looked at him with a questioning look and gave a soft hum.

"I never thought to ask her," he admitted. "I shall ask her soon, once she has finished speaking to the girls. How were they when you told them the news?" Jon took a deep breath before he answered.

"Sansa was upset about their deaths while Arya was quite angry," he told him. "For a moment I feared that I would need to lock Arya in her chambers just to keep her from running off to hunt down those responsible." Eddard gave a brief smirk that looked more like a grimace.

"Knowing Arya she would've done just that. I'm surprised that she didn't," he said looking at Jon with an amused look. He was silent for a few moments before walking back to the desk. "She's so much like your mother," he suddenly remarked as he sat down. Jon frowned at the comparison but said nothing, knowing that his uncle would soon tell him more. "Her personality, her looks, her temperament... everything about Arya just reminds me of Lyanna. Sometimes when I look at her it's like watching at a memory." Eddard sighed before looking back at Jon. "Sorry Jon, I don't mean to reminisce like that."

"It's alright uncle," Jon replied as he sat back down in his seat. He sat quietly for a minute before looking up at Eddard. "If you want I could go and see if I can hunt Baelish down for you?" Eddard looked up at him and gave him a fond smile.

"That's kind of you to offer Jon, but I don't think it would be wise," he said. "Baelish could be anywhere, and it would take you forever to track him down. Besides, I have a task for you." Jon sat up straighter in his seat at that, looking at his uncle. "I am giving you a command of three score men. You are to ride west through the Golden Tooth and continue on to wherever Robb is. You will join him and fight beside him when he takes battle to Lannisport, and Casterly Rock after that." Jon felt a slight surge of elation at that, a touch of excitement at the prospect of riding out to fight by Robb's side.

"I will gladly ride out uncle," he said with a slight bow of his head. "Will I be taking Grenn and Pyp with me, or have you need of them?" Eddard smiled slightly as he leaned over the table.

"They will go with you Jon," he answered. "Your friend Samwell will stay here with me. I have taken Theon and young Lord Harrold as my two squires, but Winterfell will need a new steward after Vayon Poole's death. I'll be testing Samwell to see how competent he truly is, and if he is good I will offer him the position." Jon was surprised at that but he soon smiled as the realisation sank in that Sam could well find himself living in Winterfell, and that is before taking into account that Sam will have access to Winterfell's library if he does take the position of steward. _He will be jumping with joy at that_ , Jon thought with a smile. _Maester Luwin will find a new resident for the library once Sam goes there. He could barely contain himself when he entered the library the last time we were there, gods alone know what he'll be like if he decides to become Winterfell's steward_.

"I am sure that Sam will not disappoint you," Jon said. Eddard nodded his head as he leaned back into his seat.

"There is one other thing," he said. "Cat and I have gone over the details over the last few weeks, and after much checking and rewriting we have finally gotten your legitimization papers sorted." Jon felt his breath hitch in his throat then. Eddard reached into his cloak and pulled out a scroll of parchment which he passed over to Jon. Jon took it with a trembling hand, holding the scroll carefully as if it were fragile. He broke the direwolf seal upon it and unrolled the scroll, reading the words upon it. Even though Eddard said that he would do this, Jon felt a sense of disbelief run through him. "From this day until your last you are Jon _Stark_ of Winterfell," Eddard said. "You will come last in the line of inheritance after Arya and any children she were to have, if Arya ever agrees to marry someone that is." Jon felt a smirk creep up on his lips then at the thought of Arya ever marrying. _The Wall will melt before Arya ever agrees to be wed to anyone_ , he thought with amusement. He looked at Eddard then, adopting a serious look before he stood up from his seat and did what any bastard would be expected to do under such circumstances; he bent his knee and bowed his head.

"You honour me, father," he said, choosing to address his uncle as he has addressed him for most of his life. "I do so swear to uphold the honour of the name Stark, and I hope to prove myself worthy of your trust." He heard his uncle chuckle before seeing his feet in front of him. He saw his hand waving him to stand up and Jon stood up quickly, looking Eddard in his eyes.

"I know you will lad," he told him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Jon looked at his uncle for a few short moments before embracing him. Eddard returned the embrace, patting him on the back while Jon willed himself not to weep the tears of joy that threatened to run down his face.

Some time later Jon found himself wandering the godswood of Riverrun. He felt like he was in a daze, still coming to terms with being legitimized and named Stark. After his uncle gave him the papers Eddard dismissed Jon from the solar, telling him that he will not be riding out for a few more days yet. Jon stumbled upon Sam, Grenn and Pyp in the courtyard, Sam watching as Grenn and Pyp sparred with a couple of Riverrun guardsmen. He told them the news of his legitimization, which earned him a couple of cheers from Grenn and Pyp while Sam just smiled at him and congratulated him quietly. He spent some time with his friends, talking with them over unimportant matters before remembering to tell them of him being given a command of men. He told Grenn and Pyp that they would be going with him while telling Sam that Eddard was considering offering him the position of steward so long as he proved himself worthy of the position; Grenn and Pyp were happy with marching out with Jon while Sam looked dumbstruck at the prospect of being made steward. After a few more minutes of their company Jon left them to get some peace and quiet. So now he was walking around the trees of Riverrun's godswood.

After losing track of time Jon found himself standing before the slender weirwood tree. He approached the tree and knelt down before it, bowing his head and praying to the old gods. After a few quiet minutes he stood up and stepped back. As he began to turn around he felt someone collide with him, a pair of arms wrapping around him. Looking down Jon saw that it was Arya who was embracing him.

"I just heard the news," she said excitedly, looking up at Jon with a wide grin. "Mother and father told me and Sansa a short while ago." Jon smiled down at Arya before ruffling her hair. Arya giggled at him before stepping back. Jon noticed that she was wearing her breeches and tunic again, though after a moment he then realised something that he had not noticed before now.

"That's my old tunic, isn't it?" he asked her. Arya looked away shyly, hiding her hands behind her back before nodding her head.

"It's too small for you anyway Jon," she said. Jon chuckled as he shook his head. _How did I not realise this until now_? he wondered. "Better to put it to good use, don't you think?"

"Aye Arya, better than throwing it away," he agreed. He stepped back towards the tree, sighing softly before looking back at his little sister. _Cousins we may be, but as Robb will always be my brother so to will Arya always be my sister_ , he thought. "What are you doing out here anyway?" he asked her. Arya huffed at the question, shaking her head before she stepped closer to the weirwood.

"I came to look for you," she said. "It's easy enough to find you, you've been coming to the godswood here everyday for weeks now." Jon gave her a slight smile before he sat down on the ground, looking at Arya as she fidgeted with her hands. "And I was going to come out here anyway. To get some peace, and..." She trailed off then, looking away from Jon. He saw the look of discomfort in her eyes then, and he knew that she was thinking of that stable boy that she had killed back in King's Landing.

He was about to speak to her when they both heard the sound of a horn blaring in the distance. Jon stood up quickly and walked out, looking over his shoulder to see that Arya was following him. They walked out of the godswood and made their way to the courtyard where they saw Sam walking over to them.

"Sam, what is it?" Jon asked. His friend looked back at him with what looked like a worried expression.

"A large group of... of riders are making their way to Riverrun," he said. "They are riding under a peace banner, but I recognise their sigils." Jon was about to ask Sam whose sigils they were but he saw his uncle come wandering over, his crown sat upon his brow and Ice over his back.

"Your grace," Ser Robin Ryger said with a bow, drawing Sam's attention.

"Y... your grace," he stuttered. Eddard looked at Jon briefly before looking at Sam.

"Did I hear you right Samwell?" he asked. "Do you know their sigils?" Sam nodded his head nervously and tried to speak, but his nerves kept him back. Jon was about to step forward and reassure Sam but Eddard had put his hand on Sam's shoulder and gave him an encouraging squeeze. "Take your time lad," he said kindly. Sam took a breath and steadied himself before answering him.

"Well, there's the Baratheon's crowned black stag fluttering beside the Tyrell's golden rose and the Redwyne's grape cluster," he said. "I also saw the sigils of Oakheart and Rowan, and a few other Reach Houses."

"What about your own House?" Eddard asked. Jon looked at Sam and saw him shake his head.

"No huntsman banner your grace," Sam said. Eddard sighed before looking back at Jon.

"We should make ready to receive our guests," he finally spoke in a commanding voice.

For fifteen minutes the courtyard was busy with servants, men-at-arms and knights readying for the arrival of the Reach party. Jon was stood beside Arya (who had to rush inside and change into more appropriate attire at her mother's insistence) and Sansa, with their mother and father stood beside them. Ghost and Nymeria were sat behind them, while Sam was stood just behind Jon. He watched as the gate opened, and for the second time that day a party entered. At the head was a knight wearing full steel plate, a longsword sheathed on his hip and a green cloth tabard with two golden roses embroidered over the fabric. He had a handsome face and short brown hair.

"That's Ser Garlan Tyrell, Lord Tyrell's second son," Sam quietly told him. Soon other knights entered, along with a wheelhouse that looked half as large as the one that Cersei Lannister had used upon the royal visit to Winterfell. The wheelhouse entered the courtyard of Riverrun, only just managing to squeeze through the open gates. The wheelhouse came to a halt and Ser Garlan dismounted his horse and walked over to the door, which he opened. A man who looked very similar to Ser Garlan stepped out first, dressed in a black doublet and with a cane in his hand. He looked a little bit older than Ser Garlan and had the same hair colour, though his hair was a little bit longer and was also neatly combed back. The man seemed to wince slightly as he stepped out of the wheelhouse before steadying himself with his cane. After a moment Ser Garlan held out his arm, and a small hand took it a moment later. The knight helped out a beautiful woman with long curly brown hair, who was wearing all black much like Catelyn was. On the young woman's head sat a small golden crown. Just then two other knights approached them; one with hair as brown and curly as the young woman's dressed in armour that looked golden in appearance, and the other with short straw-like blonde hair who towered over the first knight. Jon heard Sam gasp behind him and he turned to look over his shoulder.

"Sam?" he asked quietly. Sam looked back at him with wide eyes.

"Tha... that's Lord Tyrell's daughter," he gasped out. "Lady Margaery. Well, Queen Margaery now I should say. With her marriage to King Renly that is." Jon looked back at the young woman and her guards and watched as they wandered over to stand before Jon's uncle. The man with the cane stepped further forward and bowed his head to Eddard.

"King Eddard," the man spoke, his voice loud and clear. "I am Willas Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden and the Reach." Jon noticed Sam give a confused gasp at that proclamation. "Allow me to present my sister, Queen Margaery of the Houses Baratheon and Tyrell." The young Queen stepped closer and dipped her head down respectfully.

"It is an honour to meet you your grace," she spoke kindly, yet her face was rather serious.

"A pleasure, Queen Margaery," Jon's uncle responded. "I remember your husband Renly speak of you during my tenure as Hand to King Robert. May I ask where King Renly is?" Jon noticed the young lady's eyes flash with pain at the mention of Renly Baratheon, but she quickly blinked her eyes.

"My husband was murdered your grace," she said. "He was killed along with Ser Emmon Cuy of his Kingsguard in a supply tent some miles outside of Storm's End after having treated with his brother Stannis. I firmly believe that a Lord Petyr Baelish is responsible for my lord husband's murder." Jon saw Catelyn tremble slightly at the mention of Baelish.

"You have my condolences my Queen," Eddard spoke slowly. "We too have suffered recently due to Petyr Baelish. Let us go inside, we can conclude introductions there. Shall we?" Margaery nodded her head in answer and soon everyone was entering the great hall of Riverrun.

Jon wandered inside behind Arya, looking at the little Tyrell Queen as she walked alongside Eddard and Catelyn. Once they were inside the great hall Jon began to make his way to the lower table where Grenn and Pyp were, until he heard Catelyn call out to him. He turned to look at her and saw the slight look of amusement in her eyes.

"You may sit beside your sisters now Jon," she said in a kind voice that Jon was still not used to having directed at him. Jon felt a touch embarrassed before turning to walk over to the high table. He sat down beside Arya who he noticed was grinning at him. As he relaxed in his seat he saw his uncle point to his family.

"My lady wife, Queen Catelyn Stark, born of House Tully," he introduced before moving on to Sansa. "Our eldest daughter, Princess Sansa, and our youngest daughter Princess Arya." Jon caught Arya's grimace at being addressed by her new title. "And my son Jon Stark. Recently legitimised with my wife's blessing." Jon felt a blush creep up at the attention that he was receiving. Margaery looked at him with a kind smile as did her eldest brother Lord Willas, though Ser Garlan regarded him with a blank look.

"A pleasure to meet you all," Margaery said before she turned around to look at her own companions, all of whom wore black apart from the knights. "Allow me to introduce my brothers. Lord Willas you already know, the other two are Ser Garlan and Ser Loras." Ser Garlan bowed to Eddard as did the knight whose hair was similar to Margaery's hair in colour and length. "Ser Loras is also part of my Queensguard, along with Brienne of Tarth here." That took Jon by surprise as he had thought the giant knight was a man and not a woman. Brienne bowed deeply to Eddard.

"'Tis an honour, your grace," she spoke. Looking to his side Jon saw that Sansa had a shocked look on her face while Arya had an awestruck look in her eyes.

"Your are Lord Selwyn Tarth's daughter, are you not?" Eddard asked. Brienne looked put off by the question but she nodded her head in answer. "You must be very skilled with a blade to be part of Queen Margaery's Queensguard." Jon watched as the tall woman looked at his uncle with a look of surprise in her eyes before she gave a kind smile.

"She is quite skilled your grace," Margaery answered. "She defeated my brother Ser Loras here in a melee, where she earned her place as part of my husband's own Kingsguard." The young Tyrell Queen then held out her hand to an older man to her left who had two women beside him. "Also we have my uncle, Lord Paxter Redwyne of the Arbor, along with his wife Lady Mina and their daughter Lady Desmera."

"King Eddard," Lord Redwyne spoke as he bowed his head. "I am glad that you were able to escape King's Landing. My own sons, Ser Horas and Ser Hobber had both escaped not long after you did and are back home recovering from their... adventure, shall we say." Jon looked at Eddard to see him nod his head at the Reach lord.

"I am glad to hear of your sons escape my lord," Eddard replied. He looked back to Margaery who Jon noticed was now holding her hand out to her right.

"Finally we have my mother, Lady Alerie, and my grandmother, Lady Olenna," she said. Lady Alerie looked at Jon's family with a sad smile, her silver hair loose. Lady Olenna however looked back at them with a shrewd look in her eyes.

"I am rather glad to finally meet you King Eddard," the elder lady said. "Though I do wish it were under better circumstances."

"Don't we all my lady," Eddard said. He sat back in his chair as the Tyrells and Redwynes took their seats opposite them. "Now then, last I heard Lord Mace was the Lord of Highgarden. What happened to him?" Jon saw Margaery's eyes fill with sorrow, while Lady Alerie looked ready to burst into tears then.

"My lord father was executed by Stannis Baratheon," Lord Willas answered as he produced a letter from his doublet. "This letter here is from Petyr Baelish, sent to try and persuade my father to betray King Renly with promises of pardons and marriage between my sister and Joffrey. However, it was sent in such a manner as to appear that it was sent discreetly. And my grandmother was certain that it is a deliberate ruse to try and sow discord among our family."

"And now my husband is dead," Margaery spoke, her voice hard. Jon looked at the young woman whose face was full of anger and sorrow. "Renly was murdered during the night, and those who killed him I am certain planted evidence to lay the blame upon my father." Margaery took a deep breath then, calming herself before she continued. "Stannis left his camp, and all of the lords of the Stormlands bent the knee to him, apart from the Dondarrions so I have heard."

"What of the Houses of the Reach?" Catelyn asked. Margaery looked over her shoulder to Ser Loras, who spoke with a hard voice.

"Most have stayed true to our House your grace, but both branches of House Fossoway have turned their cloak, as have the Florents and a few lesser Houses. The worst traitor however is Lord Randyll Tarly." Jon looked at Ser Loras wide eyed, shocked at that. _Sam's father fights for Stannis now? This is bad_ , he thought. Randyll Tarly is known throughout the realm as one of the best generals that the Reach has ever produced, and he has never suffered a defeat.

"And it was Lord Tarly who detained Lord Mace Tyrell, thus preventing him from leaving and therefore leading him to his execution," Brienne spoke. Jon heard Eddard sigh loudly then, his frustration evident.

"This makes things a lot harder for us," he said. "With Tarly siding with Stannis we will have a much harder fight ahead of us. Though I must admit my surprise that he would bend the knee to Stannis in the first place."

"Well, that makes two of us King Eddard," Lady Olenna said. "Though I dare say my idiot son did give Lord Tarly reason in the past to resent him, I never would have thought him capable of betraying his liege lord."

"Still, he had been shown the so-called evidence that implicated my father's involvement in Renly's murder," Margaery cut in, drawing Jon back to the young widow. "Lord Tarly is a rather pragmatic man, and so he thought that my father must have given in to his greed upon being shown further evidence in the form of a letter sent by Petyr Baelish. That must have been enough to convince him of my father's guilt, and it certainly seemed to be enough to persuade Stannis." Jon felt even more disgust towards Baelish than he already did. He leaned onto the table, clasping his hands as Ser Loras spoke again.

"I noticed that you have Tarly's eldest son with you your grace," he said. Jon looked to Eddard who gave a slight nod of his head. "I though that he had gone to the Wall to take the black?"

"Young Samwell did Ser Loras," Eddard responded. "However he chose to leave before taking his vows, along with three other recruits who like him had gone to Castle Black of their own free will." Jon looked back to Ser Loras who then turned to face his grandmother.

"Perhaps we could use the boy as a means to deter Lord Tarly from giving Stannis further aid?" Lady Olenna suggested. Jon blinked at the words, knowing that she was suggesting using Sam as a hostage against his father. Before he could respond he heard Catelyn clear her throat.

"I am afraid that that would not be possible my lady," she said. Jon looked over to her and saw her turn to look at him. She nodded her head, giving him leave to explain further. Sitting up straighter in his seat, Jon cleared his throat and looked at Lady Olenna who he realised was now looking at him.

"My lady, I have known Samwell Tarly for many months now," he said. "I know him well enough to know that if you were to hold him prisoner and tell Lord Tarly that you will have him executed if he continues to aid Stannis Baratheon then he will still do so and probably thank you for killing his son afterwards." Lady Olenna blinked rapidly at that, leaning further over the table. "Samwell has confessed to me that he is a craven, and that his lord father holds no love for him. He told me that his father had forced him to go to the Wall or face being killed in a hunting accident."

"Why would Tarly do that?" Ser Loras asked, his tone making it clear to Jon that he did not believe him.

"Because Samwell is not a warrior like Lord Tarly wanted him to be," Jon answered, feeling frustrated. "His second son Dickon is more martial minded, and as such Lord Tarly would rather have his second son inherit Horn Hill and Heartsbane instead of his firstborn." Jon could have sworn he heard the tiniest gasp coming from Sansa then, probably shocked at the thought of a father being so cruel to his son.

"Furthermore," Eddard said before anyone else could speak, "I am in need of a new steward at Winterfell, and Jon has assured me of Samwell's keen mind. If he proves himself capable I will offer the position of steward to him once this war is ended." Ser Loras looked at Eddard with a look of frustration that quickly vanished. After a moment of silence Lord Redwyne coughed, drawing attention to him.

"That actually reminds me your grace," he said as he stood up and shouted to a knight bearing the Redwyne grape cluster. The knight bowed to him and disappeared. After a few moments Lord Redwyne turned to face Jon's uncle. "When my sons escaped from King's Landing they took a young lady with them. Someone you may be familiar with, you in particular Princess Sansa." Jon looked at Sansa who looked at the Lord of the Arbor with confusion on her face. She then turned her head slightly before her eyes went wide.

"JEYNE!" she shrieked with joy. Jon looked to where Sansa was looking and saw Jeyne Poole being escorted in by the Redwyne knight and a septa.

"Sansa," Jeyne said, relief in her voice. Sansa stood up from her seat and walked over to her friend. The two girls embraced each other, both crying with joy at seeing each other again. Jon looked back at his family; Eddard and Catelyn both looked glad to see Jeyne and Sansa reunited, as did Arya though she seemed a little bit bitter. _Jeyne did give Arya a lot of grief in the past_ , he reminded himself. Jon put his hand on Arya's shoulder and gently shook her. Arya looked away from the girls and turned to Jon.

"You okay?" he asked quietly. Arya nodded her head slowly.

"You have my thanks Lord Redwyne," Eddard spoke then, drawing Jon's attention back to the conversation.

"You're welcome your grace," Lord Redwyne said in reply.

"Now if we can get back onto the reason why we are all here?" Lady Olenna said sharply.

"Grandmother," Margaery said with what Jon thought was a resigned groan. After a moment the Tyrell Queen looked back at Eddard. "So, taking into consideration everything that has happened, we are here to ask you for aid in taking the Iron Throne," she said. "I know that the North has no desire to remain under the rule of the Iron Throne, and I am under the impression that the Riverlands and the Vale are both wishing to follow you. So with that in mind, I am asking you to support my claim to rule over the southern kingdoms." Jon watched his uncle as he leant over the table, his hands placed in front of him.

"I am willing to enter an alliance Queen Margaery," Eddard said with his lord's voice. "I have no wish to see Stannis sit the throne, especially considering that his men had attacked me as I was making my way back to my family. Though some may question why I am helping your family to take the throne." At that Jon saw Margaery give a small smile.

"You would be helping House Baratheon to take the throne, not House Tyrell," she said. "I will legitimise Edric Storm, King Robert's natural-born son, and name him as my heir if needs be, but that will only be if I either lose my child or give birth to a girl." Jon saw the surprise on Eddard and Catelyn's face, and he looked back at the young widow to see her putting a hand over her belly. "King Renly and I grew quite close your graces. And I am carrying his child." Jon looked back at Eddard who was slowly standing up, his face suddenly becoming softer as he looked at Queen Margaery.

"Robert and I grew up in the Eyrie as friends," he said, "and regarded each other as brothers. House Baratheon and House Stark have been friends for many years. While I will be going to war against Stannis Baratheon, a reality that I know to be a certainty, I see no reason for the friendship between our Houses to be completely soured. The Northern Kingdoms will never again bow to the south, but we will still count the Baratheons as friends so long as our sovereignty is respected." Jon looked back at Margaery, who looked at his uncle with a look of gratitude in her eyes.

"I will recognise the sovereignty of the Northern Kingdoms, as will my child and all who follow," she said. Jon saw Eddard give Margaery a warm smile before he responded.

"Then so long as the Reach helps us in our war against the Lannisters, then you may count on us to help you claim the Iron Throne for your and King Renly's child," he said, his voice sincere.

Jon looked back at Margaery and her family and saw the looks of relief and gratitude on their faces, and where Lady Olenna was concerned he was certain that she had a scheming look in her eyes. She looked towards Lady Mina Redwyne who Jon noticed had a similar look in her eyes. _What are those two up to_? he wondered. As he watched them he saw Lady Mina nudge her head towards her daughter Desmera (who was busy talking with her father) while not breaking eye contact with Lady Olenna. The young lady looked to be about the same age as Jon and Robb, and was quite pretty with brown hair and freckles on her face. _She looks like a lovely girl. Maybe pretty enough to draw Robb's attention_ , Jon thought with amusement. After a moment Jon shook his head and turned to face his family, trying not to wonder about whatever Lady Olenna and Lady Mina were plotting.

* * *

Dacey

On the morning of the day that the assault would happen Dacey woke up slowly, rising from her cot. She stood up and stretched her arms out, yawning as she did so. She stroked her hands through her hair and began to pull it back into a braid. She sat down with her naked back to the tent's entrance. After a few minutes she began to pull on her clothes, starting with her breeches before going for her tunic.

"Lady Dacey, Prince Robb is wanting... oh!" Edric Dayne barged into the tent as she was pulling her tunic on and caught a glimpse of Dacey's breasts. The lordling turned around to look away, his face going bright scarlet.

"And that is why you never enter a lady's tent without her leave to do so," she told him in a mock scolding tone, trying not to smile at him but failing miserably. The little lord was quite popular among the ranks, always cheerful and with a cheeky jape ready to use. He got on quite well with everyone he spoke with, and even Robb liked him. Still he was quite reckless at times; at Oxcross he had charged out with the men despite being told to stay behind with the reserves. As a result he got a little cut on his face but fortunately that was all he got, apart from a good scolding as well. Still he was a typical boy, always running around and being playful when his duties allowed. But he was quite nosey at times too, especially around the few women throughout the camp. More than once he had been caught peeking into tents where a camp follower was busy pleasuring a man-at-arms or knight.

"I... I'm sorry, Lady Dacey, I..." he stuttered out.

"What have I told you about using titles?" she cut in.

"To... to not use them, Dacey," he said. "I'm sorry." Dacey smirked as she made sure that she was decent.

"You can look now young man," she said. Edric turned around slowly, looking at her shyly. Dacey looked away as she reached for her mail, Edric moving as if to offer help. "Believe it or not I am quite capable of armouring myself Edric," she told him kindly as she pulled the mail shirt over her head.

"Of course, sorry," he said. Dacey chuckled as she untucked her braid from under her tunic.

"You apologise for an awful lot, don't you?" she teased him. Edric coughed as his face turned redder than before. Ever since that day after Oxcross Edric has not been able to look at Dacey without his face going red. Of course since that day Dacey has not been able to look at Beric Dondarrion without feeling a little uneasy; after only a couple of drinks Edric had let slip that he was certain that Beric had feelings for Dacey. At the time Dacey had laughed it off, but since then she has found that she cannot look at Beric without getting distracted.

"Prince Robb is requesting that you make your way to him at the siege towers as soon as you are able," he told her, bringing her out of her thoughts. Dacey nodded her head as she grabbed her leather armour.

"Very well then," she said as she pulled on her torso armour. "Run along and tell him that I'll be there shortly." Edric bowed and turned around to leave. "And Edric?" The boy looked over his shoulder. "Next time, call out to whoever is in the tent and wait until they tell you to enter."

"O... of course, my... Dacey," he stuttered out before leaving. When he was gone Dacey laughed softly, reaching for her gauntlets and putting them on. _If only it had been a certain lord that Edric squires for_ , she thought wistfully as she laced up her gauntlets, remembering the dream that she has had for quite a few nights now. _Stop it_! she chided herself. _He's betrothed. It matters not how much you want it, it'll never happen_.

After pulling on her boots Dacey grabbed her mace and then left her tent, making her way to the towers. She walked past the men as they ran along the rows of tents to the siege lines. She stopped to grab a couple pieces of bread and ate them as she walked along to where Robb was. Twenty minutes later, as she was finishing off her bread, Dacey saw Robb standing by the towers with Grey Wind beside him. The direwolf was stood on all fours, panting happily as Robb talked with Greatjon and Dacey's mother.

"There she is," Maege said as she caught sight of Dacey walking towards them. "Pleasant dreams I hope?" Dacey rolled her eyes as she stopped beside Robb.

"Good, now that you're here Dacey," Robb began before she could respond to her mother, "after much discussion I have decided to lead the second wave once the gates are down. Greatjon, you'll lead the assault from the towers." The Umber lord smirked widely as Robb looked from him to Dacey. "Over the last few nights the Sarsfield garrison have not retaliated as often as I would have liked them to. Clearly they were saving their arrows for today. I will send my infantry up first with the battering rams, siege ladders and their shields, which should draw their archers attention. The towers will advance on the walls and then Greatjon will lead the initial attack. As originally planned though Dacey you will have command of the second wave attacking from the towers." Dacey nodded her head to Robb.

"Understood Robb," she said. It would be the first time that the towers were used for an attack; the host had built them over the last fortnight in preparation for the assault on Lannisport, but so far they had only the two towers to use. Dacey hoped that they would prove effective.

"I already have everyone else assigned to their posts," Robb told them. "Harrion and Torrhen will be leading the battering rams to the gate, Lucas and Ser Marq are going to lead the infantry very shortly, and Smalljon and Lord Dondarrion are preparing their men to try and sneak up on the walls opposite where our main attack will be and climb up them. Hopefully the Sarsfield garrison will be fully committed to our infantry and towers so they'll not notice Smalljon and Lord Dondarrion, otherwise our own archers will have to engage theirs in a bloody exchange in a bid to give them a chance to climb up." Robb walked over to the far end of the tower they were stood next to, just as a Karstark war horn sounded.

"That'll be Harrion and Boar-Hewer on the move," Greatjon said as they walked to join up with Robb.

"Aye," Robb answered. "Soon enough the infantry under Lucas and Ser Marq will be marching. After half an hour the towers will move. Ten minutes after that Lord Dondarrion and Smalljon will make their move regardless of whether the garrison is aware of them or not." Robb turned to face them, a determined look in his eyes. "I had hoped that Lord Sarsfield would've had the good sense to surrender, but after loosing off arrows at Olyvar twice upon our arrival I am left with no choice." Dacey remembered back to five days ago when they had laid siege to the castle of Sarsfield; Robb had sent his squire to parley with the Sarsfields twice, but both times Olyvar came riding back with arrows racing after him. The second time Olyvar had to drop the peace banner after being hit on his shield arm. For five days now Robb has planned the assault on Sarsfield, ordering for the siege towers to be brought forward and organising the men for digging up the siege lines and establishing the sentries and patrols. Robb's main concern had been Daven Lannister riding out to flank the host, but so far he has either not gotten a sizeable host assembled or he is just biding his time. The Blackfish has been leading outriders to scout the surrounding countryside for any sign of the Lannisters, but so far nothing has been found.

"The Sarsfields have made their intentions known Robb," Dacey's mother spoke as she stepped up to look out to the besieged castle's walls. Dacey looked at the ramparts to see archers loosing off volleys of arrows at the infantry marching upon the wall. Dacey could see that most of the infantry had heavy looking shields to give them decent cover while others held siege ladders. Occasionally an archer or crossbowman among the ranks would loose off their own shots at the defending archers; every now and then a defender would fall, either dead or left unable to fight back.

"Let's get to it," Robb said after they had watched for a few minutes. He turned to face them all and walked past them. "Get into position. We take the castle today."

Dacey gathered her men around her, making sure that they held their shields high. She did the same with her own shield, keeping it up to stop any arrows from hitting her. So far she had felt three arrows thudding against her shield, their impacts stronger than any other she has felt so far during the war. The towers began their ponderous advance ten minutes ago, so Smalljon and Beric will begin their own advance on the wall around about now. The towers were halfway to the walls now, the archers on the ramparts sending volley after volley of arrows at the infantry around the towers. A man nearby screamed out as an arrow struck him as another two arrows hit Dacey's shield, one of the arrowheads punching through her shield just beneath the rim. Dacey cursed as she moved herself a little closer to the tower she was closest to.

"MOVE YOUR ARSES!" she bellowed loudly at her men. "KEEP YOUR SHIELDS HIGH AND KEEP MOVING!" The men yelled out, letting her know that they had heard her. The advance was slow, the enemy archers trying to slow them even further. Finally after another ten minutes or so the towers had reached the walls. Dacey heard the sound of the towers ramps hitting the ramparts, followed by the Greatjon's war cry as he led the first wave. Dacey smiled savagely as she turned to face her men. "WITH ME!" she bellowed out as she made her way to the base of the tower.

Dacey entered the tower and began the slow climb up the ladders and stairs to the top. The men were right behind her, all scrabbling to get to the top as quickly as possible. A minute later Dacey found herself stepping out onto the top floor, finding it empty apart from three dead men, all of whom had been felled by arrows. One of her men stumbled out from the opposite side only to catch an arrow in his neck. The man fell to the floor, and Dacey turned her body around and brought her shield up.

"SHIELDS UP!" she roared as she began to move forwards. Peeking around her shield she saw Umber men fighting the Sarsfield garrison, hacking and slashing away at each other while two Sarsfield archers loosed off arrows at Dacey and her men. An arrow hit her shield as she stepped onto the ramp. Cursing loudly she hooked her mace back to her belt and unhooked the small throwing axe that she had. She drew her arm back before throwing at the archer to her right who was just knocking an arrow. Her axe flew over the brutal melee in front of her and slammed into the archer's face, jerking his head back and sending him tumbling over the wall and into the courtyard behind him.

Unhooking her mace Dacey threw herself into the battle in front of her, swinging her weapon into the shoulder of a Sarsfield man-at-arms who was just turning to face her. The man cried out in pain as he staggered to her left, and she struck him on the back of his helm. As she recovered for her next attack she felt an impact on her shield, followed by a second and a third. Dacey smashed her shield into her attacker, sending him off balance and allowing her to face him. The man was shorter than most of the other men in the fight, and he looked to be about Robb's age. _Just a bloody boy_ , she thought as her opponent lunged forward with his sword. Dacey stepped to the side and slammed her knee into his gut, doubling him over so she could slam her elbow into the back of his neck, hopefully just knocking him out. From the corner of her eye she saw a Sarsfield knight slashing his sword at an Umber warrior who was struggling to recover. Dacey stomped over to him and swung her mace high, intercepting the sword and knocking the knight off balance. The knight prepared to strike back but the Umber warrior thrust his greatsword into the knight's side under his arm. Turning to seek another opponent Dacey saw one of her men falling to the floor, blood rushing out of his throat as his foe slashed his sword at another Mormont warrior. Dacey stalked towards the man, kicking another enemy man-at-arms out of her way. The swordsman saw her and snarled out a challenge; Dacey stepped to her right and swung her shield into the man's side, pushing him off balance. She followed up with a swing of her mace, striking the man on his back with as much strength as she could muster. Her foe cried out as he tumbled to the ground, falling onto his hands and knees. Dacey swung her mace at his head, killing him with a strong blow that no doubt would have broken his neck.

Dacey turned to face the battle around her, seeing Mormont and Umber men cutting the enemy garrison down with little mercy. She saw Greatjon hacking a man in twain with that massive greatsword of his, while a few feet from him she saw one of her own men draw his sword free from his foe's belly. To her left she saw an Umber axeman slam his weapon into a Sarsfield knight's helmeted head, splitting the helm's visor and doing the same to his face. To her right one of her men fell having taken a mortal blow, while his killer was disembowelled by another Mormont swordsman who slashed at him. Dacey let out a deep breath and stomped forward, kicking a Sarsfield man in the back of his leg and smashing her mace into the side of his head. She looked to her left and saw a man rush at her waving his sword like a fool, screaming a war cry that was drowned out by the sounds of battle. Dacey blocked his attack with her shield and pushed to the left, thrusting her mace into his chest. The man-at-arms staggered back, winded by her blow. As he grabbed his sword in both hands she brought her arm back and swung the mace down, sending her foe's weapon out of his hands; she quickly followed up her attack by swinging her mace back upwards, the head striking him under his jaw. As he fell she looked around to see the enemy men-at-arms who were on the wall all lying dead or dying.

Walking towards one of her officers, Dacey slammed her mace against her shield as the men cheered. She stopped next to the man and looked at him, keeping her face grim and serious.

"Take half of our men to that gate house over there," she said pointing to where the gate was. "It'll save our friends from exhausting themselves trying to batter it down."

"Aye milady," the officer said before he stepped forward barking orders to the men. Dacey turned around to see an Umber warrior looking at her.

"You, find your lord and tell him we are ready to move to the courtyard below," she said. The Umber warrior nodded his head before turning to find Greatjon. As he walked away Dacey looked to the wall opposite to see Smalljon, Beric and their men overpowering the Sarsfield men-at-arms who were on that wall. All over the ground there were dead Sarsfield men, as well as a lot of dead Northmen. _So they had a tough fight on their hands? Bugger it_. Dacey watched as Smalljon kicked one man off of the wall before swinging his greatsword at another, cutting him in half across the belly. Beric meanwhile was in a duel with two enemy knights and winning; he slashed his longsword at one foe before shoving his shoulder into the other, then he parried the counter attack of his first foe before slashing at the gap between gorget and chin, sending blood trailing after his blade.

The second knight made to attack but Beric stepped to the side and roared out as he thrust his blade into the back of the knight's legs, sending him to his knees. Dacey watched mesmerised as Beric pulled the knight's helmeted head back to expose his throat and slice it open. As he did another foe rushed at his back, ready to end him. However little Edric stepped in with a spear and thrust the point into the enemy's face, stopping him dead in his tracks. Beric turned to see the man fall, but neither saw the new foe thrust his sword at Edric's back.

"Edric!" she gasped quietly as the sword punched clean through his back and out of his chest. Dacey watched on in horror as the boy lord screamed out in pain and horror as the sword was dragged out of him. Beric cried out in anger and anguish as he rounded on Edric's killer. Suddenly spurred into action Dacey ran along the wall, pushing past men as she rushed to Edric. _No, please gods not him. He's only a boy, just a boy_ , she thought as she rushed into the gatehouse where men were fighting. She pushed one man over the body of another, swung her mace into someone's face, smashed her shield into another's back. Right now she did not care who she lashed out at; she was only concerned with getting to Edric.

Dacey stepped out of the gatehouse and ran along the body strewn wall towards where she could see Beric fighting the man who cut down Edric. Beric was parrying and blocking the killer's unrelenting strikes, unable to strike out himself. Blood poured down his sword arm as his foe rained down blow after blow until suddenly Beric was sent tumbling down onto his back. His foe raised his sword high for the killing blow, and Dacey threw herself at the man. She screamed out her anger, roaring like a bear as she pushed the man onto the ground, sending his helm flying off of his head. Having discarded her shield and dropped her mace Dacey punched the man in his face, breaking his nose with the force of her strike. She punched him again, this time sending a tooth flying from his mouth. She punched him once, twice, thrice, each blow sending blood onto the floor next to his head. She kept punching him, smashing his face in with every blow until he was still and unmoving. Even then she punched him once more, until she stopped and hauled herself off of him. The man's face was a bloody ruin; his nose was flattened, his lips were torn, his brow clearly split. After a moment Dacey felt pain in her sword hand. She ignored it and turned to face Beric, who had crawled over to Edric. The boy was still alive, but even Dacey knew that the wound was fatal.

"Edric," Beric spoke quietly. "Come on lad, talk to me." Dacey wandered over to them, falling onto her knees beside them.

"B... Beric?" Edric managed to speak, his voice weak. A trickle of blood slid out from the corner of his mouth. "I... I don't... don't want to die." Dacey crawled closer to the lad, pulling him up gently and resting his head against her lap.

"Hush lad," she said to him. "Save your strength. Everything is going to be alright." Her heart was ready to burst as she cradled Edric's head in her lap. She willed herself not to cry, but a lone tear ran down her cheek. Edric reached his hand up to her, his finger wiping the tear away.

"Don't c... cry Dacey," he said, his voice so quiet. He looked up at Dacey and gave her a smile that quickly turned into a grimace. She looked down at him and felt her heart breaking. _Why couldn't you have stayed behind boy_? she wanted to scream at him but she could not find the will to say anything to him as he lay there in her arms. After a few moments he began to tremble, his body shaking violently. Dacey grabbed his hand and squeezed it, looking into the boy's eyes.

"No," she said quietly. "Come on now Edric."

"Mama?" he said deliriously, his eyes glazed and his voice weak. "Mama? Mama? I... I'm... I-" Edric suddenly stilled, his body going limp.

"Edric?" Beric said, his voice full of anguish. "Come on Edric, don't do this!" But Edric did not answer. Dacey felt her tears running free then, mixing with the blood and sweat on her face. "I failed him," Beric said quietly. Dacey did not look at him though; she could not bear to look at him right now. After a moment she noticed that Beric had stood up and was slowly walking away; before long she heard him roar in pure rage. Dacey just sat there, holding onto little Edric's lifeless body.

"I'm sorry lad," she managed to say, lifting his body up and wrapping her arms tightly around him. "I'm so sorry." She pressed her lips to Edric's forehead, letting her tears fall before she set him down on the ground. She pulled some strands of his blond hair out of his face and closed his eyes. She knelt down over him and cupped his face between her hands, pressing her forehead to his and sobbing quietly; she cared not for the men who were standing close by watching her. After a moment she slowly began to rise, blinking her eyes rapidly before wiping the tears angrily. She looked down at his lifeless body taking in every feature before she stood up and wandered over to where she left her mace, the men following behind her. She grabbed her weapon and reached for a fallen sword just as a group of Sarsfield men came into view. Glaring at them she stood upright and charged forward, roaring her anger like the beast on her family's banners.

* * *

Torrhen

They could hear Dacey's angry war cry from the recently opened gate where they were stood. The battering rams had only just gotten into position when the gate was opened up by Mormont and Umber men. In the courtyard Torrhen saw Greatjon hacking away at his foes, tearing them apart. On the wall to the left he saw a group of Northern warriors led by Dacey charging into a large group of Sarsfield men-at-arms. On the steps leading down from that wall was Dondarrion, cutting the enemy down mercilessly with a look of sheer anger in his eyes. _Something's happened_ , Torrhen realised. _Something bad_.

"Right then lads, let's get stuck in shall we?" Harrion called out. Over the last few weeks Harrion has slowly come out of his grief, but he was far from the man that Torrhen remembered him to be. Torrhen cheered along with their men before rushing forward, sword high and shield in front of him. He charged at the Sarsfield men who were running out of the closing door of the castle's main keep.

The first foe Torrhen attacked bounced off his shield as he rushed forwards, while the second began to thrust his spear. Torrhen moved his shield to the right to divert the spear before swinging it back into his first foe; he thrust out with his sword, the tip of the blade piercing the inside of his opponent's thigh and slicing the artery. As that man fell screaming in horror Torrhen turned to face the other foe who was raising his weapon high. He dodged to the side when he saw that it was an axe, the edge of it just missing his nose by an inch. Torrhen swung his sword at the man's body, the sharp edge striking his mail. He followed up by bashing his shield into the man's arm and pushing him off balance. The man staggered back but before Torrhen could slash his sword at him a stray arrow hit the foe in the side of his head. Cursing whoever claimed his kill Torrhen turned to face his next opponent, a knight with a shield and bastard sword. The knight took a wide swing at him, aiming for his head. Torrhen raised his shield and felt the impact judder his arm. The knight swung his own shield at him but Torrhen stepped to his right turning his body so that the shield passed him, before following up by slashing his sword upwards under the arm bearing the shield. The edge of Torrhen's blade caught the knight's upper arm but had only caught the man's mail. The knight snarled and smashed his shield against Torrhen's, intending to knock him off balance. Torrhen braced himself and slashed at the back of the knight's legs, slicing into the back of the knee joints.

As the knight fell screaming Torrhen sunk his sword into the exposed neck, his steel slicing through flesh and sending blood cascading out of the wound. When he pulled his sword out blood spurted out like a fountain, some of it splashing against his face. Torrhen turned to see Harrion felling a man-at-arms with a slash to his chest while the man next to him parried away a strike aimed at Harrion's back. Torrhen charged towards his brother only to be pushed to the ground by a Sarsfield man-at-arms, his shield falling out of his grasp. Torrhen looked up and saw the tip of a longsword rushing towards his face. He rolled to the side and slashed out at the man's feet, his sword cutting off his foe's right foot halfway up his shin. The man screamed as he toppled to the side, clutching the stump of his limb. Torrhen brought the edge of his sword to the fallen man's throat.

"No, please-" the man begged as Torrhen ran the blade over his neck, opening his throat. As blood streamed out Torrhen turned to see another foe rush to him with a spear. The man thrust his weapon at him, the spearhead catching him in the side. The steel tip punched through his leather and mail, but only grazed his skin. Torrhen yelled in pain, but before his foe could react he grabbed the spear and used it to get himself onto his feet. As he stepped up he thrust his sword into his foe's chest with all of his strength and buried his weapon to the hilt. The man gave a little cry of pain before tumbling, Torrhen's sword stuck fast. Rather than waste time pulling his sword free he picked up a discarded axe and moved on to find a new foe. Just then he saw horses enter the courtyard, followed by a fast moving blur of grey that leapt at a Sarsfield man and tore him down.

As Grey Wind killed his prey Robb rode in, armoured from head to toe and with his sword held ready. Torrhen looked around to see that most of the enemy were dead and one of the battering rams was right up against the door of the main keep. Robb rode closer, his shield raised up ready to receive any arrows sent his way.

"MEN OF SARSFIELD!" Robb shouted out. "YOU HAVE FOUGHT GALLANTLY, BUT THE CASTLE IS OURS! SURRENDER NOW AND SAVE YOUR LIVES! IF YOU CONTINUE TO RESIST I CANNOT PROMISE TO SPARE YOU!" There was silence for a few moments, apart from the moans of the dying. After a moment four arrows were sent flying to Robb from the windows. Two missed him, one struck his shield and the fourth hit him in the right shoulder, punching through his armour. Robb hissed in pain as he moved his horse back, his guards raising their shields ready for another volley.

"My prince?" someone called out. Torrhen looked back at Robb to see him breaking the arrow's shaft and throwing it aside. He growled out a curse before looking back at the keep.

"If that's their answer, then we'll answer in kind," he said as he dismounted his horse, groaning in pain as he moved his sword arm. "ATTACK!" he bellowed. Torrhen roared with the men as the battering ram began to pound against the doors. It took several goes before the oak began to crack, then another few before the oak splintered. After about two score blows the doors were broken down, and the men charged in. Vale knights were first in, followed by Rivermen and then Northmen. Torrhen hung back while Harrion led their infantry in; he looked at Robb who was clutching at his wounded shoulder.

"Let the others do the work Robb," Maege Mormont said from beside him.

"I'm not going to stand back while my men fight and die for me," Robb all but snarled. Torrhen stepped closer to him then, stopping in front of him.

"Can you swing a sword in your left hand as well as you can with your right hand?" he asked him. Robb looked at him and opened his mouth ready to argue, but after a moment he sighed in defeat.

"'Tis only a flea bite Boar-Hewer," Greatjon said from behind him. "If he can still swing his sword with that arm then let him." Torrhen was about to retort when Robb spoke.

"Peace Greatjon," he said. "Whether I like it or not Torrhen and Maege are right. Besides, if I fight now before getting this flea bite seen to I'll only make it worse. Last thing I want is to sit out the fighting once we get to Lannisport." Torrhen looked over to Lord Umber who was nodding his head.

"Aye, that's a fair enough point lad," he said. The four of them stood looking at the main keep as their men poured in, the sounds of fighting spilling out of the doorway and the windows.

For an hour the fighting continued, men roaring as they felled their foes and shrieking as they were cut down in turn. Torrhen stayed outside with Robb, Greatjon and Lady Mormont; the elder two stood in front of Robb as a healer saw to the arrow that had hit him while Torrhen stood beside them offering help when it was needed, keeping Robb still as the arrow was removed before helping to remove the armour that had been pierced.

"Just as I thought," the healer spoke as Torrhen helped Robb get the armour off. "A bodkin point. Good fer punching through steel plate at a good distance." Robb chuckled before wincing as Torrhen put pressure on his wound.

"The bane of knights and armoured men everywhere," he said. Torrhen chuckled in agreement.

"Got to love them, except when they are aimed at you," he said. Robb laughed heartily as Greatjon offered him a wineskin.

"That's nothing lads," he said as Robb drank. "I remember back during Robert's Rebellion when we were fighting those dragon shits. I was riding with the vanguard during one battle with both of your fathers, gutting Targaryen loyalists left and right. About halfway through the battle as I was about to lop off some fool's head I felt white hot agony on me arse. After the battle was done good old Ned had me pinned down with help from a dozen other lads while a couple of healers pulled out a bloody crossbow bolt from me left arse cheek. I couldn't sit down for bloody weeks so I spent the next few battles slogging it with the foot." The Umber lord chuckled as he took the wineskin off Robb before taking a swig himself. Robb and Torrhen laughed as well while Lady Mormont just shook her head while smirking.

"I can imagine you were not very happy with that," Robb said. Greatjon chuckled some more.

"Bloody right I wasn't," he said. "What made it worse though was that there was some bloody fine looking wenches following our camp. I couldn't have fun at all without causing myself pain. It was not very comfortable to walk with such a wound, so doing anything else would've been agony." Lady Mormont just snorted with laughter as she leant to one side with her arms folded.

"Well Jon, it could've been a lot worse for you," she said. All of them laughed for a couple of moments, briefly forgetting about the battle that raged on in the keep behind them. When they finished chuckling the healer was done and moved on to someone else, and Torrhen went to the body that his sword was stuck in to retrieve it.

Another hour passed before the sounds of fighting ceased entirely. Soon after men were cheering loudly at their victory. Robb walked into the keep, Torrhen and the others behind him. The entrance hall was littered with the bodies of the dead all heaped up over the floor, which was almost entirely red with blood. Torrhen nearly slid on some poor man's entrails as he walked along with Robb. Robb walked with his armour back on, with a bandage underneath covering his wound. All around they saw their own men standing, not a single prisoner in sight. After a few minutes of walking Robb led them into a large hall with overturned trestle tables and a chair on a raised dais at the opposite end. Torrhen saw his brother Harrion stood to one side of the chair with Smalljon stood across from him.

"Sarsfield is yours my prince," Smalljon spoke as he bowed his head. Robb stopped six feet from the Umber heir, Torrhen stopping behind him.

"Where is Lord Sarsfield?" Robb asked him, his voice devoid of any emotion. Smalljon stood up straight and looked at Robb, a grim look in his eyes.

"He was not here," he said simply. Torrhen frowned at that as Robb stepped closer.

"Then who was in charge of the garrison?" he asked, a slight hint of anger in his tone.

"One of his by blows it seems," Smalljon said. "Some cretin named Ser Lucas Hill was giving the orders. He told us nothing as we cornered him, but he put up a good fight." Harrion stepped closer then, his armour drenched in blood and his sword arm hanging lazily by his side with his weapon smeared in blood.

"I have sent my men to scour the castle my prince," he said. "Soon enough they will find answers for us." Just then a door opened and two men entered dragging a young woman with them.

"Let go of me you stinking barbarians!" she hissed.

"Watch yer tongue wench or I'll put it to better use," one of the men threatened her.

"You will do no such thing!" Robb commanded sternly. The man-at-arms looked at him and bowed his head, as did the other. "Release her at once!" The young woman was released and she rubbed her arms, shooting a glare at the men who had led her roughly into the hall. She looked at Robb and gave a rather half hearted curtsey.

"My lord," she said bitterly. Smalljon opened his mouth to correct her but Robb held up his hand for silence. Torrhen watched as Robb took a step closer to her.

"And you are?" he asked her, his tone a little bit softer.

"I am Joanna Sarsfield, daughter of Lord Steffon Sarsfield," she said. "My cousin Ser Lucas, my uncle's son, where is he?" Robb looked back at Smalljon who took a step closer, adopting a kinder look on his face.

"Your cousin fell in battle my lady," he said. "He refused to surrender when given the chance and chose to fight on. He fell to my blade." Torrhen saw Lady Joanna's eyes widen with grief at the news. She seemed to falter then but quickly recovered.

"I lost two of my brothers to your rebellion Stark," she said bitterly. "Bryan and Symon both fell at the Trident so I heard. Now my cousin lies dead. When my father, uncle and eldest brother return with more men from Lannisport they will have your heads decorating spikes." Some of the men laughed at the lady's angry words but Robb did not laugh.

"The Westerlands have lost this war my lady," Robb answered her. "Sarsfield is mine. The entire eastern half of this kingdom has the direwolf banner flying over it. Soon Dorne will join our campaign, and it will only be a matter of time before Lannisport and Casterly Rock fall. There is no need for you to show defiance my lady. Surrender the castle to me formally and I will allow you to remain here under guard. If you do not then you will be escorted to the Golden Tooth before you are taken to Riverrun to wait out the war, and there my father will be the one to decide your fate." Lady Joanna stared at Robb with a hostile look in her eyes. Torrhen felt tense at this moment, his hand involuntarily reaching for his sword's hilt.

"I..." she started, but Torrhen saw her resolve falter as she hesitated. Lady Joanna kept quiet for a short while before bowing her head in submission. "I surrender Sarsfield to you," she said meekly.

With the castle formally yielded Robb gave the order for the men to begin the clear up of the dead. Torrhen stood next to Robb and the others for a time before he decided to go outside and see if he can help. Harrion was the Lord of House Karstark so Torrhen did not need to be by the prince's side unless told otherwise. Walking through the halls he saw the men dragging corpses outside for burial as well as collecting fallen weaponry. As he walked Torrhen thought about what Lady Joanna had said about her family being at Lannisport; if they were part of the host that Daven Lannister was likely assembling there then they would likely have more of their own men with them, and the Sarsfields were known to have some of the finest archers in the Westerlands. _That could prove to be a problem for us when we engage them_ , Torrhen thought as he stepped outside the main keep. The courtyard was full of dead bodies and piles of weapons; the men were dragging the bodies of enemy dead to one side while the corpses of fellow Northmen, Rivermen and Valemen were taken outside of the wall, while swords, axes, spears and bows were tossed onto a massive pile in the middle of the courtyard with several smaller piles forming up beside the wall. Looking up to the wall on his right where he saw Dacey fighting earlier Torrhen saw Dondarrion standing with a mournful expression on his face. Remembering seeing him fighting earlier with anger in his eyes Torrhen decided to go up the steps leading to the top of the wall.

It took Torrhen a minute to reach where Dondarrion was stood, and when he got there he felt like a rock had just slammed into his stomach. Lying on the stone floor of the wall in a pool of blood was Dondarrion's squire, little Edric Dayne. The lordling who had become Lord of Starfall recently upon his father's death was now dead himself. He had been quite popular throughout the host though Torrhen could hardly stand the boy himself, especially after he had caught the boy peeking into his tent when he was busy having fun with a camp follower. But seeing him lying there dead was heart-wrenching. Torrhen stepped closer to Dondarrion, seeing the glazed look in his eyes. The Lightning Lord looked utterly devastated by what had happened.

"My lord?" Torrhen spoke quietly, but Dondarrion did not respond. Torrhen took a step back before turning around and leaving him there. He began to go back down the steps to the courtyard when he caught sight of Dacey. She was wandering about as if in a daze, her whole body drenched in blood and grime. Even her hair was a complete mess with bits of muck, blood and other foul things tangled up in it, and blood coated her face making her look like a creature out of a nightmare. Torrhen made his way to her, worried for her. As he approached her she looked at him blankly, her eyes devoid of emotion.

"Torr," she said quietly. Torrhen looked at her, trying to think of something to say to her.

"Are you alright Dacey?" he eventually asked after a moment. The warrior woman looked at him and shook her head.

"No, I'm not," she spoke, her voice quiet. "I just... Edric..." She trailed off then, unable to say anything else. Realising that Edric's death has clearly affected her Torrhen just nodded his head and stepped aside.

"Go to him," he told her. Dacey looked at him then, a questioning look in her eyes. "Go to Edric. Pay your respects. Then go back to your tent, grieve quietly and get drunk afterwards." Dacey looked at him for a few moments longer before she nodded her head and walked off. Torrhen watched her as she left, watching her ascend the steps to where Dondarrion stood. Seeing Dacey like that was very worrying to Torrhen; he knew that she like so many others was fond of Edric, but he never thought that she could be affected in such a way over anyone's death. He watched from the courtyard as Dacey slowly approached Dondarrion before stopping beside him. They stood in silence before Dacey started to talk. Dondarrion spoke back after a while, and Torrhen watched silently from the distance as the two conversed. He could not know what words were spoken but he had a rough idea; even he knew that those two have spent time in each other's company over the last few days before arriving at Sarsfield. _Even a blind man can see that they like each other_ , Torrhen thought as he walked away, wandering through the opened gates back towards the camp.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** To those who like Edric Dayne, I am sorry. Think I am slowly turning into a cruel bastard. I blame GRRM.

Anyway, I hope this was a good chapter for you guys. I have yet to decide what to do for the next chapter so who knows what's going to happen. It'll be a wee while though, real life is slowly catching up to me and forcing me to go back on the job hunt (boo, hiss), so don't expect an update as quickly as you'd like.

Anyhow, until next time...


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